


Another World, Another Time

by jikanet_tanaka



Series: Another World, Another Time [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: (ie bill cipher was not nice to the people he possessed), (last tag caused by the one before it), (more than canon), Cults, Demonic Possession, Dimension Travel, Dimensional 52, Dipper and Mabel Pines are Good Niblings, Eye Trauma, Ford Pines Needs a Hug, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mild Language, Post-Weirdmageddon, Spoilers, Stan Pines is a Good Brother, Suicidal Thoughts, Time Loop, Time Shenanigans, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 131,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23599252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jikanet_tanaka/pseuds/jikanet_tanaka
Summary: Nearly one year has passed since two generations of Pines stopped the end of the world. Stanford Pines, once a puppet of the demon Bill Cipher, is now simply content to be a brother to the man who saved his life and an uncle to the two children who taught him to trust again.But when figures from his past disrupt that peace, Ford must face dreadful truths in order to keep his family safe in a strange new world.Sequel story, slightly Ford-centric (but all the Pines have a part to play!)
Relationships: Dipper Pines & Ford Pines, Dipper Pines & Ford Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, Ford Pines & Mabel Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines
Series: Another World, Another Time [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2107941
Comments: 362
Kudos: 252





	1. Chapter 1

There was a loud, tearing sound, like fabric being ripped apart. A hole cleaved apart the dusk sky, showing an alien world beyond the frayed edge of reality. Yet none of the passersby in the city below thought to look heavenward.

They did not see the man falling from the tear in the sky.

Droplets of red fell alongside him, oozing from a head wound. The man blinked sluggishly, trying to remember the moments that had preceded him being ejected yet again from another dimension. He had lost a lot of blood, that much he was aware. How and why… well, that was a bit harder to recall. It was hard to keep any train of thought, in fact.

Stanford Pines was plummeting to his death, and he was only halfway conscious of it.

The ground was rapidly approaching, and Ford spied colourful, pyramidal buildings. It was hard to tell from this distance, but the people below also came in an array of varied hues. Not humans, it seemed. Disappointment pierced Ford’s dimming consciousness. Not earth, then. Not _home_.

It was an unsatisfying end to such an arduous journey. If he had possessed enough energy, Ford would have raged against such a fate. For some reason, his thoughts turned to the picture he kept safe in the inner pocket of his coat. Strange. Ford would have believed that he would die thinking of the bitter taste of unfulfilled revenge…

His body came to a lurching stop.

An inexplicable force was keeping him in the air, a mere few feet away from what would have been a grisly (and messy) end. Voices, speaking in a language Ford could not understand, flared around him. The colours were so bright, so _garish_ , that Ford’s head was swimming.

Or maybe it was the copious amount of blood that he had lost.

The crowd around him began to part, and a taller figure clad in purple approached him. Ford summoned all his strength to look at the face hidden under the cowl. The effort cost him much; the last thing he saw before giving to oblivion was lilac eyes gazing at him in worry.

* * *

When Ford came to his senses, he was lying on a comfortable surface.

Ford’s eyes fluttered open. Slowly, he took in his surroundings. He was in a small, sparsely filled room, lying beside a mountain of plush cushions. The walls were decorated with a few tapestries and a mirror. He inhaled deeply, smelling the scent of incense hanging in the air. Soft violet light filtered from the window; one look outside showed Ford the peaks of distant mountains across the horizon.

He frowned as he noticed that someone had removed his coat and sweater, leaving him only in a tattered shirt. Ford tried to move, but fatigue made each of his limbs as heavy as lead. And his skull hurt like it was about to split apart. He gingerly touched his wound, startling as he realized someone had bandaged his head. Yes, he remembered; he’d been attacked in the second dimension, only escaping by the skin of his teeth. But where was he now?

There was the sound of a cloak rustling against the ground. Ford grew tense, backing away until he felt the solidity of the wall behind him. Futilely, he reached for his gun, only for his hand to close around empty air. He swore through grit teeth.

A veiled lady entered the room. She was slender and tall—she must have had half a foot on Ford, who was a little over six feet himself. Her skin was lilac, much like her dress and cowl, only a shade darker. But that was not her most extraordinary features.

Ford’s startled gaze was met by seven eyes, each a varying shade of purple.

It was hard to see the minute details of her face without his glasses. Ford cursed that he had been stupid enough to be caught while he was still so weak from his injuries. She tilted her head, almost as if she was assessing his behaviour. A smile touched her lips, and she reached for something in her sleeve. Ford braced himself for the worse, but she only handed his glasses over to him. He hurriedly put them on.

The lady sidled toward him in a graceful, flowing movement. “I see you are awake,” she said, sitting by the side of the bed. “ _Stanford Pines_.”

Ford stifled another curse, desperately looking around for any kind of weapon. “You speak my language? How do you know my name?” Perhaps if he could keep her distracted, he could buy himself enough time to plan his escape.

“To answer your first question, I happen to know many languages. As for your second question…” She hid her mouth as she laughed. The sound was delicate, coquettish. “Well, you are a very well-known man. With a powerful enemy.”

The hair on the back of Ford’s neck bristled, and his blood ran ice-cold in his veins. _She knows. She knows, she knows, she knows._ “Well, what are you waiting for?” he said, trying to keep his voice cool. “This is a golden opportunity to sell my sorry skin to Cipher and his cronies, isn’t it?”

To his surprise, she laughed again. “Sell you to Bill Cipher? Oh, you poor soul, I am his _enemy_.”

Ford remained tense. He had never met anyone who opposed the ruler of the Nightmare Realm, let alone so openly. Most of the multiverse feared the triangular demon and his band of extradimensional criminals.

“In that regard,” she continued, “we are allies.”

“If you say so,” Ford said evenly.

She laid a delicate hand over her chest. “You are currently in what travellers call Dimension 52. My name is Jheselbraum. In my faith, I am a healer and an oracle.”

Ford touched his bandaged head. “Then…”

“My comrades and I have attended to your wounds, yes,” she answered his unsaid question. “You were unconscious for many days. And delirious with fever. You kept calling for help.” She suddenly inched closer, making Ford jump a bit. “You called for _his_ help. You called for Stanley.”

Ford reeled back. “ _What?_ That’s absurd!” His eyes narrowed, and all the goodwill she’d built so far evaporated like mist under a scorching sun. “How do you know _his_ name?! Did you pluck it out of my mind?!”

“No.” She remained calm in the face of his growing panic and anger. “You kept mumbling his name while you were unconscious. You must have been very scared.”

Ford shuddered with revulsion. “As if!” The thought that he’d been delirious enough to call for Stanley’s help was disquieting. His twin was the reason why he had been stuck in the hell of the multiverse for the past two decades or so!

Jheselbraum remained silent for a moment. “It is most fortunate that we found you so soon,” she said, not-too-subtly changing the subject. “Otherwise, I doubt we would have been able to save you.”

She smiled, and for a moment Ford nearly let his guard down. Her expression was gentle, as comforting as the sound of the sea. He found himself blushing like a schoolboy instead of the fifty-something man he truly was.

“Axolotl must have brought you to my doorstep,” she murmured, almost more to herself than for Ford’s ears.

“Axolotl?” Ford repeated. It was the name of a kind of salamander back on Earth. In fact, now that he could see the room better, he could spy a scroll depicting said animal behind Jheselbraum. Strange symbols were arrayed around the frilly creature. “What or who is—”

“Of course, considering what I’ve seen, it could not go another way,” the Oracle continued, pointedly ignoring his question. She paused, her many-eyed gaze never wavering from Ford as she finally said, “After all, you have the face of the man who will defeat Bill Cipher.”

For a few seconds, Ford stared numbly at her as the meaning of her words sank in. Hope and excitement mingled in his chest, and he fought to smother those feelings. After all, once upon a time there had been _someone else_ who had delighted in telling him how important, how special he was.

“Is that so?” he said instead. “Am I supposed to believe you?”

“I am simply telling you what I’ve seen of the future,” Jheselbraum said levelly. “You are free to do as you please with that information. But believe me when I said we must stand united against our common enemy.”

Ford considered her for a moment before saying, “Well, that much is true.”

“You must be looking for a way to get back to your own universe, yes?”

Ford opened his mouth to reply, but suspicion kept him from speaking. In the early days of his exile, he had been desperate to find a way home. But now that he was starting to feel the weight of the years, now that he had wasted his youth being on the run across the multiverse… Ford’s hands tightened into fists. Well, his goals had slightly shifted.

Now Ford lived only for a chance to destroy Bill Cipher.

Still, he turned his tongue thrice in his mouth, only saying, “That’s right.”

“Then, I might be able to help you.” She got to her feet. “But first we need a way to shield your mind from Bill Cipher.”

Ford inhaled sharply. “Is that _possible?_ ” For decades, he had been terrified of falling asleep, certain that his body would be hijacked by the demon while he wandered the world of dreams. To think that the end of that hellish endeavour could be so near…

“Follow me, please,” Jheselbraum said, holding out a hand to help Ford to his feet.

Ford frowned, turning his gaze away. His eyes found the mirror next to the tapestry depicting the axolotl.

He stared at his reflection. A tired-looking man gazed back at him, his pale skin marred by bruises, his face unclean and unshaven, his hair more grey than brown.

Unbidden, a thought came to him. _Is that how Stanley looks like now…?_

Bitterness rose to Ford’s mouth like the taste of bile, and he cast that thought aside. Still, he did not turn his eyes away from the mirror.

The face of the man who would defeat Bill Cipher, she had said. It felt wrong to hope, and yet…

Ford shook his head, steeling his resolve. He was too old for such fanciful notions. Still, he took Jheselbraum’s hand. “I’m ready to hear what you have to say.”


	2. Chapter 2

_\- Ten years later -_

* * *

The barest amount of sunlight filtered through half-open eyelids. Ford found himself mumbling, as if he was still a kid asking his mom for more precious seconds in bed. Still, the voice that replied to his mutters was far from motherly.

“Wake up, sleepyhead!” a gravelly male voice said. “We’re nearly home!”

Ford rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes, before glancing at his left. Stanley had one hand on the wheel, his grey hair blowing from the wind coming from the open car window. Stan greeted his twin with a grin.

“How long have I been sleeping?” Ford said, fighting off a yawn. Outside, the sun was already high in the sky. It had been barely daybreak when they had left their hotel this morning.

“I dunno. Four hours, maybe?”

Four hours? Ford was almost amused. Not even a year ago, he had barely been able to sleep two hours in a row in a comfortable bed. “I could take it from here if you’re tired.”

“Nah. I’m good.”

Ford hid a smile; Stan wouldn’t admit it, but he had missed his sorry wreck of a car. They had been on the road for several days now, but Stan had never let Ford behind the wheel. Then again, Ford technically didn’t have a driving licence since Stan had stolen his name and identity; the last thing they needed was for them to get arrested before they could get back home and see the kids again.

The _kids_. Ford found himself smiling wider. They had kept in touch over the last few months, exchanging letters and chatting over the Internet. Still, Ford missed them terribly. He had been excited to learn that Dipper was doing a study of the paranormal phenomena of Piedmont. The boy had noted that his sleepy hometown was certainly more boring in that regard than Gravity Falls. Mabel, for her part, had apparently made so many scarves and socks for her uncles that she couldn’t send them all by the mail. In their last video call, she had promised she would bring them a suitcase full of Mabelmade accessories, whatever that meant.

“We must be getting nearer the bus stop,” Ford mused.

“Give or take half an hour, at the most,” Stan said.

“It’ll be nice to see them without a computer screen getting in the way.”

“Yep.” For a moment, Stan’s smile weakened. “You think… you think they missed us as much as we missed them? I mean, it’s been months, and they’re teenagers now—”

“Stanley,” Ford said firmly. “I know for a fact that these kids _adore_ you. You have nothing to fear.”

“Okay,” Stan said in a slightly squeaky way. “Same, uh, goes for you, y’know? I’m sure they can’t wait to see your ugly mug. Kids think you’re the coolest thing since sliced bread.”

Ford chuckled. “Since sliced bread? We didn’t have this one back in the days. What a strange idiom.” Still, he felt his cheeks heating up a little. It was nice to be reminded that there were people in the world who gave a damn about him, after thirty years spent jumping at every shadow.

They finally approached the bus stop. Next to the sign, there were two small figures surrounded by an impressive amount of luggage. By their feet, a pink creature was snoring in the dirt.

Dipper had grown one or two inches taller than his sister, and his brown hair stuck out messily from under Wendy’s ushanka. He had obviously taken other cues from her sense of style since he was also wearing a red plaid jacket over his shirt. Mabel, as always, was a symphony of garish colours; she had tied back her hair with a magenta ribbon, which complemented a purple sweater and short blue overalls, not to mention mismatched knee-high socks.

Stan kicked the door open, calling their names in a booming voice. Ford left the car as well, just as the younger twins were turning toward their uncles.

Ford’s heart nearly burst from love and joy at the sight of their faces.

The twins cried out in glee, and they dropped all of their luggage to run into Stan’s open arms. For a moment, Ford felt a stab of disappointment. Of course, the kids would go to Stan first, of course he’d been wrong to think that—

Both Stan and Mabel reached to grab him, pulling him into their three-way embrace. Ford yelped in shock as he toppled over instead, and the hug became a pile of Pines.

He did not know how long they remained there, lying in the dirt and in the grass without a care in the world. Eventually, Stan grumbled, complaining that Ford was elbowing him in the ribs. Mabel’s foot had somehow ended up in Ford’s right eye, while Dipper wheezed, crushed under his twin’s weight.

They shared the same sheepish laugh as they stood up. Stan had barely gotten the time to wipe the dust off his pants when Mabel grabbed him again, shaking him by the lapels of his coat.

“June 15th is your birthday and you never told us?!” she cried. “We could have thrown you a birthday party last year, old man! I am betrayed, sir, _betrayed!_ ”

“Sheesh, kiddo!” Stan said. “Laying on the melodrama thick, are ya?”

She pointed at him in a show of outrage, but Ford could see that she actually seemed on the verge of laughter. “From now on, I’ll plan all of your birthdays and you’ll _like_ it. You two, Grunkle Ford!”

“Cut it out, Mabel,” Dipper said, shaking his head. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Yeah! Happy birthday, you two!” Mabel seemed barely able to contain her excitement. “And it’s like, your first birthday together since forever!” With lightning fast reflexes, she grabbed her cellphone from her bag, and said solemnly, “I’m ready to document the occasion in scrapbook form. With tons of pictures.”

“And stickers,” Stan completed, eyes a bit glazed over.

“And stickers! You know me too well!” She whirled toward Ford, her grin almost blindingly bright. “Grunkle Ford! I love your sweater! Such a nice colour!”

Ford pulled at the grey-blue wool, smiling slightly. “We bought it when we landed in Iceland.”

“Aw, so it’s a souvenir sweater!” Her gaze grew critical. “But you gotta ditch the trenchcoat! I thought we’d talked about this already, Grunkle Ford!”

“Um…” Ford threw a desperate look at Stan. His brother only shrugged. “It’s not a good look, then?” He was under the impression that trenchcoats were supposed to be cool. Was he wrong?

“At least it’s not _beige_. Blue’s a better colour for you, anyway.”

“I’m sure we _all_ want to hear Mabel’s fashion advice and all,” Dipper interrupted her rant, “but shouldn’t we go going, you guys? I mean, at least before Waddles manages to eat all of my stuff.”

Indeed, Mabel’s pet pig was chewing on Dipper’s discarded backpack.

“Oh, oh, oh, Mr. Piggy-Wiggy, what did I say about eating things you’re not supposed to?” Mabel said as she sauntered over to her pig. “You know Dipper’s stuff is gross anyway, it’s all sweaty.”

“Mabel!” Dipper protested weakly.

“Kid’s right, we ain’t getting’ younger here,” said Stan. “C’mon, Poindexter, help me carry all that junk.” He gave the kids’ luggage a critical eye. “Are you two movin’ in or what?”

“Wouldn’t that be fun!” Mabel said; she didn’t see the goopy smile Stan threw her way as she climbed into the car.

Still, he scowled when Mabel’s four-legged friend hopped into the Stanmobile. “And jus’ when I’d managed to get the piggy smell out,” he muttered. “How d’you get him onboard the bus, anyway?”

“It was the same bus driver as last year,” Mabel said. She flashed a crazed grin. “I showed him a picture of you guys. He understood my point easily.”

“ _Hah!_ ” Stan said loudly, while Ford briefly wondered what kind of monster he and his brother had unleashed upon this world.

“Wait,” said Dipper, “what am I sitting on? Is that… who left a half-eaten sandwich on my seat?!”

“Last time someone used the backseat was…” Ford thought about it. “Well, it must have been you kids, actually.”

“Aw man, _gross!_ ”

“Wow!” said Mabel. “Look at all those fungus! Is it me or are they _glowing?_ ”

“Fungi, my dear, fungi,” corrected Ford.

“No! Mr. Piggly-Poo, don’t eat it, you’ll get sick!” Mabel opened the car window, throwing the disgusting (and potentially radioactive) object outside. “There! Be free! Oops. I think it landed on a gnome!”

Dipper made a face. “Ugh… still got its smell stuck in my nose…”

“D’you think that mutant fungi will give him superpowers, Grunkle Ford?”

“Perhaps!” Ford said, tongue in cheek. “The only way to make sure would be to turn the car around and get some samples—”

Stan groaned. “Oh my god. Shut up. All of you.” Still, he could not hide his smile when Ford and the twins laughed instead.

Ford had never been the social type, and yet it was baffling how easy it was, talking to those kids. It was like putting on new socks after spending the day walking in the rain, or even like cracking open a beloved book after a long and tiring day. By the end of the care ride, it felt like they had never spent several months apart.

Soon, they could spy a familiar peaked roof. The children stuck their faces in the car window, basic safety measures forgotten and ignored as they caught sight of their summer home.

Stan parked the car near the totem pole. He stretched as they got out of the Stanmobile, his joints making popping sounds.

“Goddammit, never thought I would miss that place!” Stan said. “Adventuring is great an’ all, but living in a cramped space with some nerd who keeps obsessin’ over the weirdest shit is—”

“Stanley,” Ford said sternly, “ _language_.”

Stan winced as he looked at the younger set of twins. “Dammit, totally forgot!” He grimaced again. “Ah, shit…”

“We hear worse every day at school,” Dipper said, one eyebrow raised.

“Hell _yeah!_ ” Mabel added.

“Stop it, pumpkin!” Stan said. “Else your parents will think I’m a bad influence!”

There was a sizable silence. Then, the four of them burst into laughter.

Stan crushed both twins with another hug. Mabel squealed, while Dipper tried to escape, his laughter turning to wheezes.

“I missed you two nuisances!” Stan boomed. “I bet your life is more boring when I’m not around, huh?”

“You could say that,” Dipper said. “Fewer opportunities to die a grisly death in Piedmont, that’s for sure.”

Ford emptied the car trunk while his brother grabbed poor Dipper into a headlock. There were already quite a number of people busying themselves outside his old home. Two of them were a heavyset young man and a young lady with pale brown hair. The young man was wearing a dark suit over a green waistcoat, and there was a familiar red fez sitting crooked on his head.

“GUYS!” Soos shouted, running as fast as he could. “You’re here! You’re finally here!”

“Soos!” the twins cried out, jumping into his arms. The new owner of the Mystery Shack easily managed to lift them off the ground.

“Put… put us…” Dipper eventually managed. He tapped Soos’ arm.

“Oh, sorry, dudes!” Soos said cheerfully, putting down both twins. “Don’t know my own strength, heh.”

Then, he turned toward Stan.

Ford’s brother froze in his tracks, like prey in sight of a predator. “Oh boy,” he muttered. “Oh boy, here it comes.”

“ _MR. PINES!_ ”

Ford didn’t know how his brother managed to stay on his feet while the young man all but _launched_ himself toward him.

“I’m so glad that you’re back, Mr. Pines!”

“Geftome,” replied Stan. His face was turning a bit purple; the fact that Soos was crushing his midsection definitely wasn’t helping.

“Did you miss me, Mr. Pines?!”

“Pumedown,” was Stan’s only response.

Mercifully, Soos let him go. Stan took a deep breath, panting as if he’d just run a marathon.

Ford extended a hand toward Soos. “Hello, Jesús, it’s good to—”

“The _other_ Mr. Pines!” Soos grabbed Ford into yet another bear hug. “I’m so glad to see you too!”

Ford’s eyes popped a bit from their sockets. “Sure,” he wheezed.

When Soos finally ended the hug, the young woman came forward, looking a bit bemused. “Hello… you’re one of the Pines, aren’t you?” she said. “I’m Melody. I’m Soos’—”

“Girlfriend!” Soos completed, almost like he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “Melody, this is Mr. Pines—well, the other Mr. Pines! _Ford_ Pines! Stan’s secret twin bro!”

“Secret twin?” she said with a little laugh. “Like, in a bad soap-opera way?”

“You don’t know half of it, dude,” Soos said, suddenly serious. “Like, you remember when I told about this portal thingamajig in the basement? Well, one day—”

Ford tuned out Soos’ story, unwilling to hear a bad retelling of the most traumatic period of his life. He noticed that a certain teenage girl was talking with the twins. Wendy eventually came their way, thankfully showing none of Soos’ boundless enthusiasm. She still wore Dipper’s blue cap over her long red hair, and her jeans and hoodie seemed to have seen better days.

“What up, Stan, Stan Two?” Wendy said. “Glad to see you guys haven’t been eaten by a sea monster yet.”

“Yet?” Stan said with a scowl. “It almost sounds like you’re disappointed!”

Wendy shrugged. “What can I say? I need that inheritance money.” She paused, grinning lazily at Stan. “I’m in your will, yeah?”

“Not after today, you ingrate!”

Ford rolled his eyes as his brother argued with his ex-employee (or rather, stomped and cursed while Wendy looked sufficiently smug.) Looking around, he saw an elderly lady with a striking resemblance to Soos knitting on the porch. Waddles the pig was peacefully grazing alongside his goat friend (Stomper? Gromper?). Two girls about Mabel’s age were carrying party decorations across the yard, while another girl with blonde hair fiddled on her phone, giving them the occasional glance.

The girls eventually passed next to Ford. The smallest of the two had glasses and long black hair. The other was chubbier, with a grin that matched Stan’s own in terms of manic energy.

“Oh, hello, Dr. Pines!” the black-haired girl said. She was one of Mabel’s friends, if Ford remembered correctly. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah!” the other said. “Mabel keeps telling us about your adventures sailing around the world!”

Ford felt sheepish. “Really? I wasn’t aware that we had an audience.”

“GIRLS!” a familiar voice screamed. Mabel was rushing toward them. She collided with her friends, who readily crushed her into a hug.

What followed was a flurry of squeals and screeches. Ford could barely keep up with their high-pitched, rapid-fire exchange of ‘omigosh’ and ‘lookit you!’ and ‘missed you so much!’

After a while, the girls stopped hugging, and Mabel exclaimed, “Candy! Grenda! My people!”

The girl named Candy adjusted her glasses. “It’s so good to have you back! There’s a ton of things we need to talk about!”

“Like the fact that we started to take boxing lessons!” Grenda added, proudly showing off her bicep. “I mean, look at these _guns!_ ”

“Ah- _muh_ -zing!” Mabel said, stars in her eyes.

“We took a liking to it while piloting the Shacktron,” Candy added. “Punching giant monsters from the Apocalypse was sure a lot of fun!”

Ford threw her a bewildered look. The girl was so caught up in happy reminiscences that she didn’t seem to notice.

“Candy!” Grenda said in a conspiratorial tone. “You know you can’t say the A-word!”

“I’ll let you girls have your reunion,” Ford said. “I’m sure you have a lot of catching up to do.”

Mabel gave him a quick hug. “Thanks, Grunkle Ford! See you at the party!”

Ford waved at her gingerly as he turned to leave. There was a banner over the entrance of the Shack, one that read, “Welcome back!” Smaller letters underneath wrote out the words, “Happy birthday Stans!”

Ford inspected the banner, somehow amused. It was shoddily made, yes, but a lot of love had obviously been put in its creation. He was so focused on this crude, but heartfelt display of craftsmanship that he backed into someone by accident. An old man with a long white beard turned to face Ford. He was thin as a stick, his bony hands fiddling with some controller.

Ford froze, forcing his lips into a nervous smile as he met the eyes of his old college roommate.

Or, more precisely, of the man whose life he had all but destroyed, thirty years ago.

“Oh! Um, hello Fiddleford,” Ford said, clearing his throat. “How are you?”

To his surprise, Fiddleford seemed genuinely pleased to see him. “Ah’m fine, of course, of course! What ‘bout you, Stanferd?”

Ford was equally bewildered to reply, in all honesty, “I’m good. Never been better, in fact.”

His old friend took a piece of paper from his front pocket, grasping it tightly. Fiddleford shoved it in Ford’s face. It was a picture, depicting a wrinkly-faced newborn. “Look ‘ere! Mah Tate had a mini Tater of ‘is own!”

“Wha—you’re a _grandfather?_ ” Ford finally mirrored his friend’s dopey smile. “Congratulations, Fidds!”

“Heheh! Ah didn’t do nuthin’, t’was all Tate!” His bushy eyebrows furrowed. “Or t’was Tate’s missus. That means Tate didn’t do a darn thing either!”

“You must be very proud,” Ford said.

“Ah’m already buildin’ her a mecha suit,” Fiddleford said, a bit maniacally. He abruptly grew serious, moving closer to Ford to murmur, “Tate don’t know nuthin’. Don’t tell ‘im, Stanferd.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Ford took a closer look at his old friend’s clothing. The woolen sweater had little robots embroidered in the fabric. “Is that…?”

“A Mabel original, yep,” Fiddleford said, the way someone would announce they had won a million dollars. “Yer niece sent it by the mail, sayin’ Ah’d get cold in livin’ by mah lonesome in that big manor.”

Ford snorted. “I’m not surprised. Give or take a few years, I think everybody in Gravity Falls will have a Mabelmade sweater in their collection.”

“She should start a business,” said a familiar voice beside Ford. Stan jutted his chin toward Fiddleford. “Hiya, McGucket. Still rolling in your money?”

Ford bristled at the question, but Fiddleford only cackled, saying, “Ah made a pool outta the stuff!”

“Hot damn! Ford, we gotta crash at your old roomie’s place! Unless you charge for a dip…?”

“Ah _could_ ,” Fiddleford answered shrewdishly.

They were interrupted by a girlish scream. The blonde child was running toward them, arms flailing. “McGucket, one of your stupid robots nearly ran me over! It’s doing it on purpose, I swear!”

Ford blinked, finally noticing that a few crablike robots were carrying a table toward the Shack. One of them had indeed broken from their midst, and it was stomping around, almost gleefully.

“Did it now?” Fiddleford said. “Maybe it’s gainin’ sentience. _Maybe the robot apocalypse is at hand!_ ”

“Whatever it is, get it to stop!” the girl griped. “Oh, look, now it’s about to go haywire on the balloons! It took me one hour to—”

“A’ight, a’ight, Ah’m on it.” Fiddleford rushed toward his rebellious creation. “Shoo, shoo, go the other way, the other way!”

“Wait,” Stan said, “it’s heading toward— _HEY!_ Not toward my car, you dumbass!” And Ford’s brother stomped toward Fiddleford and the misbehaving robot, hollering threats.

They left an uncomfortable silence in their wake. The blonde girl looked up and down at Ford, finally saying, “Oh. I guess you’re Dipper and Mabel’s other uncle. The one who isn’t an ugly, smelly old man.”

“I heard that, Northwest!” Stan shouted from wherever he was at the moment.

She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Ugh. Why did I let Mabel talk me into this…?”

“Pacifica!” Mabel sauntered over. “There you are! I need your help.”

“You’re not making me put up party decorations, are you?”

Mabel began to push her away from Ford. “C’mon! Less talking, more working!”

She pointedly ignored Pacifica’s protests, and the two girls went to help Wendy set up more streamers.

“Gosh,” said a voice next to Ford. Dipper was scratching his head, looking rather dumbfounded. “She actually managed to get Pacifica to come? And to help with _preparations?_ ”

“Mabel holds surprising sway over people,” Ford commented. “She’s a lot like Stan in that regard.”

Dipper snorted. “Yeah… while the two of us are more like…” He left the sentence unfinished, his expression growing sheepish.

Ford smiled, squeezing the boy’s shoulder. “Like two weirdly shaped jellybeans.” He was amused to see his nephew lighting up with pride at the metaphor.

“Mabel wanted to invite like, the _whole_ town, but I convinced her not to,” Dipper continued. “I said you’d like a smaller party better anyway.”

“That’s certainly true.” Ford snorted. “But I do enjoy a bit of chaos too, once in a while.”

With the same contented smile, they watched Stan chasing the robot, screaming obscenities. On the porch, Abuelita Ramirez was glaring at him, no doubt indignant about his use of unclean language around little ears. Fiddleford laughed madly as he shot confetti at his wayward creation with some sort of large-barrelled shotgun; he grinned even more fiercely when he changed course and started to chase Ford with said ‘weapon’ instead. Ford retaliated in earnest when he found a purple bazooka that shot glitter.

Eventually, the sun started to dip over the horizon, and Mabel announced that everything was now perfect according to her grand design. The twins dragged Stan and Ford to a table filled with a mountain of delicious-looking food. The feast lasted well into the evening; Mabel fed half of her plate to her pig, while Stan recounted their exploits at sea, to the kids’ delight. Ford, for his part, stayed silent as he ate. A part of him was still itching to find a quiet spot where he could read or tinker on some contraption. Still, listening to Stan’s (mostly exaggerated) tales was entertaining enough.

Eventually, not a speck of food was left on the table. Barely a second after Soos had taken Stan and Ford’s plates, Mabel and Dipper rushed over to their uncles, holding several boxes wrapped in colourful paper.

“Open your gift, open your gift!” Mabel was hopping up and down. “C’mon, c’mon!”

Ford rolled his eyes in a good-natured manner. Inside the box was a neatly folded woolen sweater. A golden twenty-sided dice was stitched at the front.

“Dipper told me you wanted to play more of your… what was it again? Your tabletop RPG? It can be, like, your official Dungeon Master’s sweater or whatever the name is,” she finished excitedly.

Ford patted her head, and she giggled. “Thank you, my dear. It’s perfect! You’ll join our campaign, I hope?”

It was her time to roll her eyes heavenward. “Well, Dipper _might_ have bribed me with stickers and tons of ice cream…”

“I’ll be glad to have you aboard!” Ford draped one arm around her shoulders. “Now, we just need to convince Stan…”

They threw an unsubtle glance toward a certain shyster. Stan narrowed his eyes at them.

“Seriously? You think I want in your nerd game?”

“It’s gotten very popular as of late,” Ford said loftily. “Nerd things, as you call them, are very much in fashion right now.” He quirked an eyebrow. “I mean, if you really want me to steal the coolest uncle title from under your nose, then…”

“Okay, okay, _jee_ -zus! No need to exert your superiority over me, IQ!”

Ford winced at the nickname. Stan couldn’t know, of course, that _someone else_ had called Ford by that epithet…

“Alright!” Mabel said. “It’s Stan’s turn! C’mon, don’t let us hanging!”

Stan made a big show of being surprised at his gift (another handmade sweater, this time with little boats embroidered in the white and blue fabric). Then, it was Dipper’s turn to come forward with his presents. To Ford, he gave a set of second-hand VHS tapes, saying it was the sequel to a sci-fi series that had been popular in the sixties. The boy grimaced as he handed his gift over to Stan. Stan snorted when he saw the title of his new joke book (‘The Idiot’s Guide to Being a Funcle’) and he playfully (and unsuccessfully) tried to whack Dipper with it.

“Time for the cake!” Mabel then announced. “Soos’ Abuelita made it just for you! Lucky boys, you!”

Indeed, Soos was coming toward the older set of twins, holding the biggest cake Ford had ever seen. Letters made in sloppy frosting read, ‘Happy 60th birthday, Stan and Ford!’

To Ford’s great embarrassment, everyone started to sing. It was probably the worst rendition he had ever heard; some were out of tune, others didn’t follow the rhythm. Fiddleford jumped on his chair and played the wrong song on his banjo. Yet, by the end of it, Stan was removing his glasses and wiping his eyes.

“Aw, shucks,” he said, sniffing. “Aw, man…”

Mabel’s smile dissipated. “Huh? What’s wrong…?”

“I think that’s the first birthday cake I’ve had since…” Ford began.

“…our seventeenth birthday,” Stan completed, with a sigh. “Dammit, didn’t mean to put on the waterworks.”

To Ford’s great horror, tears filled Soos’ eyes. “T-That’s so s-sad, Mr. P-Pines!”

Stan winced. “Don’t cry, you dumbass! ‘m fine. We’re both fine. Right, Sixer? We’re crusty old bastards, we’re made of stern stuff.”

“Indeed,” Ford replied.

“Then, what are we waiting for?” said Dipper.

“Cut the cake, cut the cake!” added his sister.

Everyone cheered when Stan took the knife in hand, flashing a rather manic grin. He didn’t seem to hear the strange tearing noise coming from above their heads.

But to Ford’s ears, it sounded eerily familiar.

He frowned, barely registering the others’ voices as he looked upward. Ford’s breath caught in his throat. The empty space above was being ripped apart by a _dimensional_ _hole._

And it was right over Stanley.

Everything happened in a blur. Stan blinked, guilelessly, as an invisible force began to pull him upward. Ford screamed his brother’s name, and he jumped out of his chair to grab at Stan. He managed to hang onto Stan’s torso, and his heart gave a painful skip as he realized he was being dragged toward the dimensional tear as well.

Panic seized him when he noticed two smaller weights pulling on his legs. Blood pounding in his ears, Ford looked downward; both Dipper and Mabel were hanging onto him in a desperate attempt to save their uncles. Ford screamed again when he saw their feet leaving the ground.

“Let go!” he cried out, fear making his voice pitch higher. “ _Let go!_ ”

His words were lost in the cacophony of screams flaring around them.

A few seconds later, and the four of them were gone.


	3. Chapter 3

It took Soos a long moment to process what just had happened.

Around him, people kept screaming. Someone was shaking him, but Soos couldn’t even start to understand who it could be. His eyes were fixed on the spot where the Pines family were sitting not even a minute ago.

“Soos!” someone yelled in his ears. “Snap out of it!”

“Huh?” He shook his head. “W-What’s going on? What just happened?”

“That’s what I’m wondering too!” Wendy shouted.

It was this—the hint of panic in Wendy’s voice—that finally snapped Soos out of his stupor.

“Mr. Pines!” Soos cried, running toward where the man had been moments prior. “Dipper, Mabel!” Of course, screaming their names was useless.

They were _gone_.

He stumbled backward, nearly falling from his feet. That couldn’t be true, it _had_ to be a nightmare. He pinched the skin of his arm, wincing at the sharp sting of pain. “Oh, no. Oh, no, no, _no_ …”

“Soos!” said a familiar voice. Melody was supporting Abuelita, who was trembling from head to toe. “What’s happening?!”

“Y-You guys!” Soos blubbered, rushing to his girlfriend and his grandmother. “Are you alright, are you—”

“I-I am fine, m’ijo,” Abuelita managed, while Melody put a hand to his cheek, saying, “I’m alright too. But what _was_ that thing?”

“It’s just like how Weirdmaggedon started,” Pacifica said, face drained of all blood. “That hole above us, it looked just the same as that _thing_ in the sky back then.”

“Do you think _he’s_ back?” Candy said. “Dipper and Mabel said their uncles had killed him!”

“Stan was supposed to have lost all of his memories too!” Pacifica interjected.

“He can’t be back, we beat him!” Grenda said. “We beat him, we _did!_ ”

“Everyone, calm down!” Melody said. “We won’t be of any help if we just start panicking, right?”

Soos turned grateful, tear-filled eyes toward her. He never loved her more than he did at that moment.

“She’s right,” Wendy said, having regained a bit of her usual composure. “Flailing around won’t help us find out what happened. We need to focus.”

“Hey,” said Pacifica, “where’s McGucket?”

Everyone shared the same look of horror.

“I saw him _running_ ,” Abuelita said. “Away from here. Toward the forest.”

“Wait, he was Dr. Pines’ assistant back in the day, that means—” The gears started to turn in Soos’ head, and he finally understood. “Oh, no! He must have been scared ‘cause it reminded him of Dr. Pines’ portal!”

“What do you mean?” Candy said.

“There’s no time!” Pacifica said. “Let’s go after him!”

Soos squeezed Melody’s hands. “Watch over Abuelita for me, please!” In response, she kissed him on the cheek.

They rushed into the woods, calling McGucket’s name as loudly as they could. It was dark, and the glow from their cellphones was barely enough to light the way. Finally, Soos saw a figure cowering beside a tree. McGucket was holding his head in his hands, muttering something over and over.

“Mr. McGucket?” Soos asked, as nicely as he could. “Are you alright, dude?”

“When Gravity Falls, when Earth Becomes Sky,” the old man kept repeating. “The Beast with One Eye, the Beast, the _Beast_ …”

Soos slowly approached him. “It’s alright, Mr. McGucket. There’s no danger, we’re alright, dude.”

“The Beast with One Eye,” Pacifica said. “You don’t think he means…”

“He’s gone,” said Soos. “Bill’s gone, y’know?”

McGucket jumped at the sound of that name. “B-But gravity _fell._ Stanferd and the others, they’re…”

“We’ll get them back,” Wendy said, putting a hand over his shoulder. “We’ll find a way to open another of those dimensional portals and—”

“NO!” McGucket slapped her hand away.

“What’s the other option?” Wendy said, in half a growl. “Just letting them die in some freak dimension? No effin’ way!”

McGucket tugged at his beard, eyes wide, pupils dilating. For a moment, he looked quite like his past, nuttier self. “Open ‘nother portal? An’ let all manners of demons and nasty beasties pour through?” He threw back his head, laughing.

“U-Um,” Candy said, “that’s not a very reassuring possibility…”

“Who cares?” Grenda said, pounding one fist in her open palm. “We’ll just kick their butts again, just like we did with the jerks from last summer!”

“My point exactly,” said Wendy. “Gravity Falls is still standing because of the twins and Stan. If not for them, we’d already be demon chow.”

“What about Dr. Pines?” said Soos. “We’ve got to save him too!”

“Stanferd?” McGucket said, with another bark of demented laughter. “Pro’bly in a hell of his own makin’! Tha’s how it always goes, anyway!”

Soos’ heart broke in two. He thought McGucket had already forgiven Dr. Pines…

The old man stopped laughing, however, when Pacifica marched up to him, giving him a slap behind the head. “Get it together, McGucket! You won’t let a petty grudge get in the way of saving Dipper and Mabel, will you? I know what they did for you! What they did for _us!_ ” She sighed, eventually putting a hand over his arm. “And you don’t hate Stan’s brother that much, do you? He’s your friend, isn’t he?”

McGucket looked at her, and for a moment Soos could not read his expression. Finally, he straightened his spine and adjusted his spectacles. “Yer right. Good kiddies, gave me my m’mories back. A’ight. ‘mma do it fer them.” After an instant, he added, “Fer Stanferd, too. He’s good people.”

“Finally!” Pacifica said, rolling her eyes, while Candy went to hug McGucket, saying, “Thank you, thank you!”

Soos let out the breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. Wendy patted him on the back.

“See?” she said. “We’ve got this figured out. We’ll get them back in time for your birthday, I swear.”

Soos swallowed back one last sob and only nodded, throat too tight to let out any words.

* * *

Ford clung to his brother as they surged through a swirling vortex of colours and formless shapes. He knew perfectly well where he’d ended up: the inside of a dimensional wormhole, a sight that he had seen hundreds of times before.

A sight he had hoped to never see again.

Ford’s stomach gave a painful lurch as they were ejected out of the other end of the wormhole. It took several precious seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dark purple sky and its lack of light. An alien sky, with two moons hanging above their heads. Not _home_ , Ford instinctively knew.

His heart leaped in his throat when he realized he’d released his hold on Stanley.

Ford screamed his brother’s name as the pull of gravity began to drag him downward. Fear shot through him when he saw two other small figures falling alongside him and Stan. Much like Ford’s brother, the children were silent, their eyes closed, their bodies limp.

The ground came faster than he would have thought, and the air was knocked out of Ford’s lungs as he hit the dirt. Apparently, they had not fallen from a great height; it was a small consolation, but one he welcomed nonetheless. Despite the pain flaring everywhere in his body, Ford forced himself to his feet, nearly tumbling back to the ground in the process.

“Stan! KIDS!” Ford shouted, limping toward where the man and the two children had landed. “Oh god, please, no, please, _please_ …”

He made a strangled little noise when one of them groaned. Mabel was sitting up, her head lolling a bit. Her brother tugged on her arm to get himself off the ground. Finally, Stan let out a series of mumbled curses, rolling onto his back as his eyes opened.

It took all of Ford’s willpower to not lock them into a hug and never let go.

Instead, he crouched at their sides, saying, “Are you alright? Any injuries, any lingering nausea?”

“ _Ugh_ ,” said Mabel. “Eating so much at supper was a bad idea…”

“You’re too young to have regrets, sweetie,” Stan muttered. There was a flash of lucidity in his eyes, and he abruptly sat up. “Wait, _what?_ What the hell happened? Where are we?”

Dipper was rubbing his head. His arm dropped limply to his side when he caught sight of the purple horizon peering from behind the jagged mountain peaks. “Oh. Oh _man_. That doesn’t look like, uh, anything back home…”

“We were sucked in a dimensional vortex,” Ford said. “Where we are… well, your guess is as good as mine.”

“Wait, wait, wait, _hold on_ ,” said Stan. “Whaddaya mean, dimensional vortex? Are you sayin’ we’re in…”

“Another world,” Dipper said, in half a squeak.

Ignoring Ford’s protests, Stan got up on wobbly feet. “That doesn’t make any sense!” he shouted. “Ford destroyed that stupid portal. And that rift thing is gone too!”

“Sometimes dimensional tears do end up forming by accident,” Ford said, quietly. “It’s very rare, but it’s possible. It’s how… well, how I travelled for thirty years, after all.”

Three pairs of eyes fell on him, and Ford winced, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. Eventually, Stan dropped to his knees, face bone white. The twins clung to each other in silence, sharing the same miserable look.

“What’s that over you?” Stan said, voice slightly hoarse. He dusted off his brother in an absentminded manner. “Is that glitter?”

“Well, thanks to Fiddleford and his—” Ford hit his forehead with his palm. “Fiddleford! And the others! Are they alright?”

“Whoa, easy there, pal,” said Stan. “I’m sure your hillbilly pal is fine. He’s made of strong stuff, nothing can put him down. He’s like, a cockroach or somethin’.”

“Stanley!” Ford said, outraged.

“Hey, I know he’s your best buddy forever or whatever it is kids say nowadays, but I’ve known the guy longer than you. He’s resilient, y’know.” Stan gave a pause. “Like a cockroach.”

“Grunkle Stan!” the twins said simultaneously.

“I meant it as a compliment!”

“What about my friends?” Mabel said. “And Soos, and Wendy, and Waddles—”

“I’m sure they’re alright,” Dipper said, only sounding halfway convinced himself. “Candy and Grenda will keep an eye on Waddles, don’t you worry.”

“Yeah, as for Soos an’ Wendy…” This time, a hint of worry did show on Stan’s face. “Wendy’s more a force of nature than, y’know, a normal human being. An’ Soos is…” Again, Stan faltered. “Well, he’s a crybaby, but…”

“You guys!” Dipper suddenly cried out, jumping to his feet. “Do you hear that? I think someone’s coming!”

Indeed, a strange whirring was coming from somewhere over the hill. Ford tensed as he realized what it sounded like.

The engine of a _hovercraft_.

“Everyone,” he said through grit teeth, “ _run!_ ”

They headed downhill, stumbling in the purple gloom. Ford saw the outline of what seemed to be a large stony outcropping. He gestured at Stan and the children to hide under it, before taking his gun from its holster.

“Wait, did you have a gun under your coat all this time?” Stan wheezed. “We were at a birthday party! A birthday party with _children!_ ”

Ford ignored him, only aiming in the direction opposite of where the vehicle was going. The flare left the barrel of the gun in near perfect silence, describing a long arc before disintegrating in a loud explosion far away from their position. Voices erupted from the hovercraft, and Ford let out a sigh of relief when he heard it speeding away.

“So _cool_ …” Dipper said in an awed whisper.

“Let’s go!” Ford told Stan and the children. “That won’t hold their attention for long.”

“It’d be easier if we could just see where the hell we’re going,” Stan hissed back.

“I think I’ve seen some lights down the valley,” Dipper said. “Do you think it could be a city?”

“It might be,” Ford said. “For now, it’s our best bet. I’ll take the lead, Stan, you close the rear.”

Thankfully, neither Stan nor the children thought to oppose Ford’s instructions. The twins held hands as they followed Ford like two tiny shadows. Mabel was babbling, but Ford didn’t have the heart to tell her to keep quiet.

“It’ll be like going camping with Mom and Dad,” she told Dipper, probably more for her own benefit than for her brother’s sake. “We just need to take it like an adventure, you’ll see…”

“An adventure,” Dipper mumbled. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Right? It’s, like, a family road trip or something!”

“Mabel, it’s not a road trip if we haven’t got a car.”

“Well, I’m sure Grunkle Stan will fix that. Won’t you, Grunkle Stan?”

“Wait, you actually want me to _steal_ one?” Stan replied. “And here I thought you kids disapproved of that kind of stuff.”

After a while, Ford tuned out their chatter. He didn’t know how long they walked. The sky stayed in a perpetual state of twilight, offering no indication of the passage of time. Still, he pushed forward, ignoring the pain and fatigue settling in his aging bones.

At least the hill was not very steep. The ground was covered by pale tufts of a grass-like plant that swayed as if caught in a breeze. Here and there, they found trees with crooked, leafless branches. Their bone-white bark emitted a soft glow, and upon closer inspection, Ford realized that the herb at their feet shimmered faintly as well. Sometimes, Ford spied some movement out the corner of his eye; luminous insects buzzed in the air, looking more like motes of light than living beings.

For a moment, Ford was struck with nostalgia, and his pace slowed. A part of him wanted nothing more than to sit down and describe these new wonders in written form. It took the sound of the kids’ footsteps to snap him out of his daze. Ford allowed himself one glance behind, and they stared back at him, little faces filled with curiosity and concern. He inhaled sharply and kept going. More was at stake than his own sorry skin right now.

Eventually, they saw a glow coming from downhill. There was a city nestled in the valley, one that bustled with light and life. The bigger buildings were pyramidal in nature, and canals crisscrossed the outermost districts. Ford frowned; was it just him or did the place feel _familiar?_

Stan was looking at the distant buildings with a strange expression. He did not move, did not say anything, he simply… _stared_ , mouth slightly open. His gaze seemed to be fixed on the largest pyramidal structure that could be seen below. In a flat voice, he muttered, so softly that Ford wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly, “That temple…”

Ford went to grab his brother’s arm. “Stanley?” he said, trying to hide the worry from his voice. “Stan, can you hear me?”

Stan’s eyes were as empty of life as they had been when Ford had shattered his mind. Mabel let out a little whine that broke Ford’s heart in two, while Dipper froze, his face going pale.

For nearly a minute, Stan didn’t say anything. Then, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Wha…?” he said. “Yeah, I can hear you, what’s the problem?”

“Are you alright?”

“Of course I am.” Stan snorted. “You’ve become worse than Ma with your fussin’, y’know? It’d be funny if it wasn’t so annoying.” 

Ford exhaled loudly, unable to say more.

“You okay there, bro?” Stan asked. “You’re not firing those witty comebacks as fast as usual.”

“Just tired. We should be moving, anyway. We need to find information about our, uh, new vacation spot.”

“’kay,” Stan said. He dropped his voice to add, “Jus’ so we clear something up…”

“Our priority is to get the children home, yes,” Ford replied in a mutter.

Stan nodded. “Good. Glad we’re on the same wavelength. I don’t care about the rest. We gotta get these kids back where they belong, no matter what.”

“No matter what,” Ford repeated, treating it almost like an oath.

“Hey!” said Mabel. “What are you two whispering about?”

Stan went to ruffle her hair. “Nothing that should worry you, cupcake. What’s that you were sayin’ about you and your folks going camping?”

As they walked away, Mabel excitedly told him about some time she had gone on a vacation with her parents. Ford sighed again, removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

“Does it happen often? Him acting like that?”

Ford noticed Dipper standing by his side. “More often than I would wish,” he admitted quietly. So far, Stan’s memory lapses had been short and easily dispelled, but each of these episodes had hit Ford worse than a punch in the guts.

There was something accusing in his nephew’s eyes. “You should have told us.”

“I know,” said Ford. “I’m sorry, my boy.”

“I get it that you want to protect us or whatever, but we’re not little kids anymore. I’d rather know what’s happening even if it makes me sad or scared. Mabel feels the same.”

“Alright,” Ford said. “I won’t let you in the dark in the future.”

“Thanks, Great Uncle Ford,” Dipper said, before running to join his sister and uncle.

Ford wondered how long it would take him to break that promise.

They continued their trek downhill, Ford’s pace now slowed down by the children and Stan’s increasing exhaustion. As they approached the city, they came upon several derelict buildings. The ruins of a farming village, most likely.

Ford tried not to see it as a bad omen.

“Oh man,” Dipper said. “place looks almost haunted…” Ford was amused to realize the boy was more curious than scared.

“Oooh, spooky!” Mabel said, making wiggly motions with her fingers. “Wonder what happened. Do you think it was _bloody?_ ”

“Who cares?” said Stan. “We could get some rest here. And hide from those guys and their sci-fi thingamajig.”

“Good idea,” said Ford.

He inspected the different buildings, trying to find one that seemed sturdy enough to serve as shelter. In the end, they headed toward the ruined structure of a barn. The walls were still standing, and most of the roof was intact. It also wasn’t built in a pyramidal shape, and while Ford knew it was only his paranoia talking, he didn’t want his family to spend the night in anything with fewer than four sides. A bit of straw (or this dimension’s equivalent, thereof) was piled up in a corner. This place hadn’t been abandoned as long as Ford had thought, then.

Mabel let herself fall on the straw with a contented sigh. Her brother sat beside her, fidgeting with his hat. Ford could hear his teeth chattering.

Eventually, Stan gave his coat to Dipper. “Here. I know it’s got this gross old man smell and whatnot, but at least ya won’t freeze to death.”

“What about you?” Dipper said. “Won’t you get cold?”

“Meh, I’ll be fine,” Stan said with a shrug. “Got a ton of, uh, _reserves_ from eating so much junk. It’ll keep me warm. Jus’ go to sleep, kid.”

“Sure,” Dipper said with a frown. “It _is_ kinda smelly, though…”

“Shut it before I take it back.”

Ford handed his coat to his niece. “Stanley’s got the right idea. Take my coat, Mabel.”

“But you don’t have enough body fat to keep you warm!” Mabel protested.

Stan’s eye twitched. “Oy. If this keeps up, I’ll just let some local wildlife take a chomp outta you brats.”

The kids laughed weakly. To Ford’s relief, it did not take long for them to fall asleep. Dipper used Stan’s bomber jacket much like a sleeping bag, only a bit of brown hair sticking out. His sister was snoring softly, looking especially tiny wearing Ford’s coat.

For his part, Ford remained on his feet, and it took him every ounce of willpower he had to stop himself from pacing.

“Hey,” Stan said. “You alright, Poindexter?”

“As much as I could be in the current situation,” Ford said wearily. “You should sleep too. I’ll take it from here.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. You’re the one who should get some rest. You sleep, what, an average of three hours at night?” He snorted when Ford threw him an annoyed glance. “Not to mention, I don’t see a coffee machine anywhere. Running on caffeine like you always do is not an option right now.”

For a moment, Ford just scowled at him. Finally, he sat beside his brother. “Wake me up in a few hours,” he said, voice gruffer than he intended. “So I can take over.”

“Can do.” There was a lengthy silence, before Stan added, “It’s a shame, though. The kids spent so much time preparing that party, and now the whole thing’s just…” He sighed, shaking his head. “Never mind. Should just let you sleep.”

Ford managed a smile. “That’s okay. I can understand your disappointment. I was looking forward to eating that cake, actually.”

“Yeah,” Stan said with a weak chuckle. “Me too. Anyway, g’night, bro.”

“Good night, Stanley.”


	4. Chapter 4

“So,” said Wendy. “Where to begin? How do we get Dipper, Mabel and the Stans back?”

They had all agreed to meet at the Shack the following day. Soos’ grandma, bless her heart, was making breakfast for everyone. Melody offered to help, only to be passive-aggressively ousted from the kitchen. Abuelita tended to be territorial when the place was concerned; as such, Melody wisely chose to back away from this battle.

Soos’ girlfriend was sitting next to him, sipping her tea. They had given her a quick rundown of the events of last summer (Soos had been all too happy to make appropriate sound effects when they had described the Shacktron’s battle with Bill’s minions). Melody still looked a bit… _shaken_ by what she had heard. Soos was grateful that she hadn’t run out of the house screaming.

“Well, there’s Dr. Pines’ portal, of course,” Soos said. “I know we stripped it for parts to make the Shacktron but I’m sure we can repair it. Right, Mr. McGucket?”

The old man was sitting with his knees propped up. He jammed his hat on his head, clearly uncomfortable now that everyone was looking at him expectantly.

“Ah can’t say,” McGucket mumbled. “Maybe if we had the original blueprints…”

Soos’ spirits sank. “The journals, you mean? But we threw ‘em in the bottomless pit, dude!”

“Good riddance,” McGucket muttered, sounding unusually spiteful.

“Ugh!” cried Pacifica. “You’re telling me you can convert a house into a giant robot in three days, but you can’t repair something you’ve helped to build? What kind of mad scientist are you?”

“Don’t bully him, Pacifica!” said Candy.

“Punchin’ a hole through the fabric of reality’s not as easy as it looks, missy!”

“It's not easy,” said Pacifica, “but it's not _impossible_ either, isn't it?”

“Of course it’s not impossible,” said Wendy. “ _Stan_ did it, and he was on his own the whole time. He didn’t have any fancy instructions to guide him either.”

Before anyone could answer, Abuelita peered into the living room. “Breakfast’s ready. Anyone wants to help set up the table?”

“I’ll do it,” Melody said, following Soos’ grandmother to the kitchen.

“Me too!” Soos said, jumping out of his chair. As he reached Melody’s side, he asked, brows furrowing, “Y-You okay? You don’t find all of this _too_ weird, do you?”

Melody sighed. “I’d be lying if I said I’m not freaking out a little. I mean, I got used to seeing a gnome or two, but not, like…”

“Dimensional tears ripping the very fabric of existence,” Soos completed. His lower lip wobbled. “I-I’m sorry about all of this. I mean, I’d get it if you… well, if you wanted to…”

“Wanted to what?” Melody smiled, putting a hand over his cheek. “Oh, honey… I’m not leaving, if that’s what you’re afraid.”

Her words lifted a weight off Soos’ shoulders. He looked at her with watery eyes, making her laugh in response.

“C’mon,” she said, pushing him forward. “Let’s feed your partners in mischief. I bet you’ll all have a big day ahead of you.”

* * *

Later on, McGucket asked to be brought to the basement lab.

The old man seemed jumpier than usual as they entered the passage hidden behind the vending machine. Sometimes it was easy to forget that McGucket had been involved in building the place. Often, he would stop and stare at some contraption, muttering to himself. On other occasions, he would wipe the dust from the levers and monitors, a wistful look forming on his face.

Wendy studied their surroundings with a raised eyebrow, sometimes offering a quip about Dr. Pines’ supervillain lair sense of aesthetics. Candy and Grenda seemed barely able to contain their excitement (the place _did_ look like something out of a movie, after all), but Pacifica remained tense, jumping at every shadow.

Finally, they reached the portal room. It was messier than Soos remembered, with metallic parts and gizmos aplenty littering the place. Soos winced as he noticed the state of these components; someone seemed to have taken out their rage on them with a giant hammer.

“Huh,” McGucket said. “Well, this is worse than Ah thought…”

“So?” Pacifica prompted. “Can you pull it off or not?”

McGucket inspected a larger structure, kicking at it. It was bent in several places, with wires sticking out. “Fer one, the hyperdrive’s busted. We’ll need parts ta replace it. Not ta mention, we’ll need fuel ta power the portal…”

Wendy folded her arms across her chest. “So, what d’you need, McGucket? Whatever it is, we’ll get it.”

“Nuclear waste,” McGucket said. “Tha’s one thing.”

“Wait, _what?_ ” said Wendy.

“Ah guess we can always raid the UFO crash site fer parts, too,” McGucket continued, completely ignoring the slack-jacked looks everyone was giving him.

“The UFO what now?!” Soos said, in half a wheeze. “Y-You mean t-that there’s…”

“A _friggin’_ UFO crashed in Gravity Falls?” Wendy said at the same time. “And no one ever told us?!”

“Ah just didn’t remember about it before.” McGucket scratched his beard. “Besides, Ah thought Stanferd woulda shown the place to you kids. Sounds like his idea of a fun place ta visit.”

“This is crazy,” Pacifica said. “And so, _so_ stupid. This is real life, not some bad nerd movie! UFOs don’t exist!”

“Well, they do, _apparently_ ,” Wendy said. “This is Gravity Falls, what did you expect?” Seeing that no one else was speaking, she added, “I guess we should split into teams. One to raid the crash site, the other to get the fuel for the portal.”

“Mr. McGucket, you know where the crash site is, don’t you?” Candy asked. “Maybe you should lead the first team.”

“Do Ah remember?” McGucket said, sounding deep in thought. “Ah guess with enough wanderin’ about, Ah’d eventually recall where it was… _pro’bly_.”

“That’s good enough for me,” said Wendy. “What about the nuclear waste? I bet Stan didn’t exactly use conventional means to get the stuff.”

“There’s a dumpin’ site used by the gov’ment nearby!” McGucket said brightly, like it was another fun place to visit.

Wendy grinned. “Stealing from the suits. Now there’s a plan I can get behind. I bet Stan has still some gear lying around that I can use…” 

“I’m not stealing stuff from the government!” Pacifica said.

“Have fun in the UFO with McGucket, then,” Wendy said. “What about you girls?”

“I’m all for sticking it to the man!” Grenda said enthusiastically, while Candy added, “It’s like you said, Wendy! We take what we want!”

Wendy gave them two thumbs’ up. “Nice to see you took my wise words to heart.”

“So I guess I’m on team UFO, then,” Soos said.

Pacifica groaned and rolled her eyes. Funnily enough, this time it was McGucket who gave her a light swat on the arm.

“Ah’ll be glad to have ya aboard, pal!” McGucket said. “How ‘bout we talk about giant robot anime on the way?”

“Great idea, dawg!” Soos said, moving his hand to share a brofist with McGucket. The old man hesitated for a moment, before slapping Soos’ fist with his open palm, face split in a wide grin.

“Oh my god.” Pacifica held her head in her hands. “Is it too late to change teams?”

“You want out, Northwest?” Wendy said with a wry grin.

Pacifica’s cheeks grew pink. “O-Of course not.”

Soos brought his hands together, eyes filling with happy tears. “It’s happening, dudes! We’re like, a team now! We need a name, you guys!” He thought for a moment. “Oh, oh, we could be the ‘Awesome Team to Save Stan and the twins and I guess Ford too’!”

“Pass,” Pacifica said with narrowed eyes.

“We could be…” McGucket gave a dramatic pause before saying, “ _the Matsu Senshi Tachi!_ ”

“Good one, Mr. McGucket!” said Soos. “I dunno what it means, but it sure sounds cool!”

“What about the Pines Rescue Squad?” Candy proposed.

“I vote for that one,” said Wendy. “Short, sweet, just badass enough for our needs.”

“Alright!” Soos held his hand forward. “C’mon, dudes!”

Candy, Grenda and McGucket understood his intent perfectly, putting their hands over his. Wendy snorted before joining them. Pacifica crossed her arms, face twisted into a scowl. Finally, she relented, placing her hand just above Wendy’s.

“Pines Rescue Squad,” Soos said, injecting as much determination as he could in his voice, “ _move out!_ ”

Everyone (save for Pacifica, who groaned) cheered loudly as they threw their hands in the air.

* * *

When Ford opened his eyes again, it was to realize he’d been drooling all over his brother’s shoulder.

“Good morning, nerd,” Stan said dryly. “You talk in your sleep, by the way.”

Ford pulled away, adjusting his glasses as he squinted at his twin. “I thought I told you to wake me to take the second shift.”

“Eh. You actually looked like you were resting, for a change. I think I managed to get some shut-eye too. Kind of a miracle with all the mumbling that you did.”

The twins were stirring as well. Mabel yawned, stretching like a cat. Her brother muttered something, pulling Stan’s coat over his head.

Mabel looked at her uncles drowsily. “Good morning, you two. Did you sleep well?”

“Well,” said Ford, “all things considered—” He stopped as he heard the telltale creak of a door being opened. “Quick! Get your heads down!”

Stan was halfway through a curse when Ford shoved him face first in the straw. Thankfully, the children hid the moment they heard Ford’s hissed command.

With slow, careful movements, Ford got to his feet, grabbing his laser gun. Keeping low, he headed toward the entrance. The intruder had their back to him, and they were rummaging through a large packsack.

“Hands where I can see them,” Ford said, aiming his gun. He heard a little whirring sound coming from his wrist as his universal translator started converting his threat in the local language.

The person stood up with a yelp, before turning toward Ford. “Wha… _wha?!_ Who’re you?!”

Ford nearly sighed in relief; he hadn’t been sure the gizmo was still in working order. Instead, he said, “Put your hands over your head.”

The man grabbed something at the ground before whirling on his feet. Ford was met with the three prongs of a pitchfork. He stifled an urge to roll his eyes.

Instead, he inspected the man before him. Four eyes stared back at him in astonishment. It was hard to tell in the purple gloom, but the man’s skin appeared to be blue. He wore a tattered cloak over equally threadbare clothes, and various knickknacks stuck out of his pockets.

Despite the gun pointed at his face, the man didn’t seem afraid, only annoyed. “You got some moxie, invading _my_ place. Those are _my_ ruins, y’know. I found them first! I’m the only one allowed to scavenge stuff here!”

“What does he want?” said a voice from behind. Out the corner of his eye, Ford saw Stan advancing carefully, the children half-hidden behind him. In their oversized coats, they looked like walking burritos. “You understand what he’s sayin’, Sixer?”

“More trespassers!” the four-eyed man said. “I oughta—” He frowned, looking from Ford to Stan in quick succession. “What… _how?_ There’s two of you?!”

“He’s my twin,” Ford said, brows furrowing.

“Your _what?_ ”

Ford didn’t answer. Perhaps his translator needed some fine-tuning. “It’s not important. We didn’t mean to startle you. There’s no need for violence, really. If you lower your weapon, then I’ll lower mine.” He wasn’t too keen on the idea of frying the brains of an alien hobo in front of his thirteen-year-old niece and nephew.

“You first!”

“For crying out loud,” Ford muttered. He lowered his gun, keeping a close eye on the man in front of him. To his relief, the pitchfork went down as well, though the man’s face was still twisted in a scowl.

“How about some payment, huh?” he said. “Since I’ve, uh, let you crash at my place, all nice and stuff?”

“What is he yammering about, bro?” Stan said, almost at the same time. “Care to fill us in?”

Ford made a little sound of irritation. “He wants us to give him something. For staying the night here.”

“Really? What is he, nuts? Place ain’t exactly a five-star hotel.”

“I have something you might accept, oh noble wanderer,” Mabel said, coming forward to show the man her wristwatch. It was pink, with cutesy cartoon kittens sticking out their tongues. “This is a family heirloom, passed to my mother from my grandmother and from _her_ mother before that. It will be a great sacrifice to part from it, but alas! The safety of my family comes first!”

Both of her uncles looked at her as if she had grown another head. Still, Ford translated what she said word by word.

“Oh, yes!” said Dipper. “A great, um, _talisman_ to ward against evil spirits, this is! How many times has it saved our skins, dear sister?”

“Too many to count, brother, too many!”

The man snatched it from her hands the moment Ford completed his translation. All four of his eyes shone with greediness. “Yes, yes… this looks like it could fetch a pretty sum…”

“Do you accept our, um, _offering?_ ” Ford said.

In response, the man shoved Mabel’s watch into his bag. Taking his pack in hands, he threw Ford a wary look. “It’s fine for one night. But don’t come back. It’s _my_ place, I found it first.”

“We get it,” Ford said, fighting the urge to clock the man in the teeth. “Let’s go, everyone.”

He kept a close eye on the guy as Stan herded the twins out of the barn. The man held on to his packsack like it was full of precious gems, scowling all the while. Ford wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d started hissing like a cat.

Outside, the sky was a dark purple, the moons and stars bathing everything in their silver light. Ford frowned, looking at his watch. More than ten hours had passed since they had arrived here. Perhaps the night and day cycle was different on this planet; it wouldn’t be the first time Ford had experienced such a thing, after all.

When they were out of hearing range of the four-eyed man, Ford put a hand over his niece’s shoulder. “That was some good thinking, Mabel. I’m sorry that you had to give him your watch. It seemed precious to you.”

“ _Pff_.” Mabel wiggled her eyebrows. “I got it from a cereal box.”

“Ford!” Stan exclaimed, giving their niece the syrupiest of expressions. “Lookit them! They’re growing before our eyes! I’m so proud!”

Ford chuckled. “Any responsible adult would be worried to see them taking after you.”

“Responsible?” Mabel gave another scoff.

“Yeah,” added Dipper, “not a word I usually associate with you guys.”

Ford’s tensions eased a bit as Stan and the kids exchanged more light banter. His stomach grumbled, and he rummaged through his pockets to find something to eat. He had some protein bars and a few trail mixes, but not much else.

Ford shared his findings with his family as they made their way toward the city. Watching the children scarf down their meagre breakfast, he made a note to find more food. A good part of Ford’s dimension-hopping years had been devoted to the search of his next meal. It was a part of his travels that he had kept from Stan and the twins in most of his retellings.

Then again, Ford’s mind added treacherously, Stanley had probably learned that lesson early as well.

They finally reached the bottom of the valley. While the hills had only been lit by starlight, several streetlamps illuminated the town, making up for the absence of the sun. Before they entered the city, Ford held up his hand.

“We must remain cautious,” he told Stan and the children. “I don’t think the appearance of that hovercraft right after our arrival spells anything good.”

“You think someone might be after us?” Dipper said.

“It’s a possibility,” Ford replied. “Keep your eyes peeled. And let me do the talking, please.”

“Hey, you’re the one with the translator gizmo,” said Stan. “The translator gizmo that you should _patent_ , y’know. For the sake of science, of course.”

Ford quirked a brow, showing him just what he thought of such an idea. “Let’s just keep going.”

They made their way across one of the canals surrounding the city. The children’s faces lit up in amazement as they found themselves in a lively, noisy marketplace. The twins’ senses must have been bombarded by a multitude of new sounds and smells—voices speaking in languages never heard by human ears, delicious meals never tasted by human mouths, spicy scents never experienced by human noses... Ford found himself smiling, remembering the feeling all too well.

Most of the market-goers were of the same humanoid, multi-eyed species as the man they had met earlier. Still, Ford was relieved to see all sorts of people around him; the town had its share of furred or scaled citizens, and Ford spied a fair number of pincers and tentacles as well.

The city was obviously a hub for dimensional travellers. That significantly upped their chances to find a way home.

As they went deeper into the market, Stan started to grin as well. There was a childlike wonder to his expression, one that reminded Ford of boyhood days spent pretending they were great adventurers. It was a relief that his brother didn’t speak the local language. The last thing they needed was for Stan to get into a shouting match with a merchant over the price of their wares.

Still, Stan’s smile began to sour as Ford tried his hand at bartering. None of the merchants were willing to accept their various trinkets (Mabel’s phone charm, Dipper’s chewed-up pens, even Stan’s fake gold chain) in exchange for something to eat or drink. After more than a few unsuccessful attempts, Ford was almost ready to let his brother loose on those poor unsuspecting bastards, consequences be damned.

“So,” Dipper eventually asked Ford, “no luck, huh?”

“I can always hunt something for us to eat,” Ford said. The children made weird faces at this perfectly adequate suggestion.

Stan immediately recoiled. “Ugh, _no_. I’ve already had enough of your weird culinary experiments on the boat. Pass.”

“No way!” said Mabel. “I don’t want you killing alien Bambi!”

“Would it be acceptable if the animal wasn’t cute?” Ford asked, slightly dumbfounded.

“ _No!_ ”

“Alright, then,” said Ford. “You’d be surprised by the number of extra-dimensional creatures that taste just like chicken, you know.”

The hours went by, and the market grew more crowded. Ford kept an eye out in case they were being followed. He kept thinking about that hovercraft, cursing that he hadn’t been able to get a good look at their pursuers. Who were the people chasing them? Why were they after Ford and his family?

At least, the children remained in such good spirits. Dipper and Mabel were obviously having the time of their lives experiencing this brave new world. Ford’s only regret was that he could not buy them all the souvenirs he could possibly carry back to their dimension. It had been strange to discover how much he loved to spoil them after thirty years of living in forced frugality. Then again, he owed them thirteen years’ worth of birthday presents.

Mabel had made quite the high-pitched screech when she’d caught sight of some alpaca-like animals tied to a stand. They spent a good thirty minutes in uncomfortable silence as she petted the creatures. Ford managed to convince the stall-keeper to give his niece a ball of multicoloured yarn by making sad eyes at her while Stan wasn’t looking.

Now that Mabel’s souvenir was secured, Ford set out to find something for her brother. Not long after, he spied the perfect gift for his nephew: a book, one with a beautiful cover made of blue leather. The sight of it made Ford oddly nostalgic.

“Look, my boy,” he told Dipper. “Doesn’t it look like that journal you started last summer?”

The boy’s eyes lit up. “Whoa! You’re right, it’s the same colour and everything.” Dipper’s smile turned to a frown. “I guess my journal’s stuck home with the rest of my luggage, huh? Bummer. It would have been fun to write about this place.”

He reached for the book, but the merchant swatted his hand with one tentacle, letting out what seemed to be a string of insults.

“Ow!” Dipper said, rubbing his reddened skin. “That _hurt!_ I just wanted to take a look inside, you know!”

“Hey!” Stan jabbed a finger at the man tending the stand. “Watch it!”

“Yeah! That’s my brother you’re hitting, you jerk!”

“You owe the kid an apology, pal!”

In response, the merchant just ranted some more, spittle flying out of his mouth. Stan’s face was getting redder by the minute, and he was readying his fists.

“Stanley!” Ford grabbed his brother’s arm. “Calm down! It’s no use getting in a fight.”

“But he was a poophead to Dipper, Grunkle Ford!” said Mabel.

Ford pushed her and Dipper away from the stand. “Let’s just go.”

Thankfully, the children followed without protest. As such, when several smoke bombs went out from under the stall, they had put a reasonable distance between the screaming shopkeeper and their own sorry skins.

“Run!” said Ford.

“Wait, what?” Stan said as he rushed after Ford. “Where d’you get that?”

“Why do you think I sew so many pockets in all of my coats?”

“Hah!” said Stan. “I knew you weren’t as reasonable as you looked! Now you’re like the brother I remember!”

Ford grinned as if he’d been given the highest of praises. The brothers were exchanging a high six when the shriek of a siren flared behind them.

“Oops,” said Stan. “Is it, like, the alien fuzz or whatever?”

“They sure got here fast!” Dipper said.

Ford frowned. “ _Too_ fast.” He glanced behind him. A flying barge as big as a car was in hot pursue. Two people in strange masks and robes were pointing at them and shouting, while a third man steered the vehicle.

“Uh, they’re gaining on us!” Stan said. “Ford, we gotta do something!”

The market-goers were screaming and jumping out of the way. Ford vaulted over a stall, knocking over the merchandise and earning himself an earful from the owner.

“Let’s split!” Ford shouted above the cacophony. “Stan, take the kids and turn left!”

“What?! Sixer, are you crazy?!”

“Just do as he says, Grunkle Stan!” Dipper shouted.

He yelped when Stan grabbed him under one arm, and his sister under the other. With a string of curses, Stan made a sharp turn, leaving Ford to face the incoming hovercraft alone.

Ford jumped on a stand, startling the shopkeeper so much the poor man fell off his feet. One of the men on the barge gave quite the undignified squawk as Ford vaulted over to the hovercraft, kicking him in the process. The man tumbled into a stall containing a selection of caged beasts, causing even more screams and mayhem. Ford turned to his second opponent, evading a punch. In a fluid motion, he caught the man’s arm, using the momentum of the punch to throw him overboard as well.

All that remained was the one steering the vehicle. He made a strangely high-pitched noise as Ford stalked over to him. Still, he turned out to be the most troublesome out of the lot. Ford tried to drag him away from the controls, but the man resisted, their strengths equally matched.

There was a sudden _splat_ , and Ford startled, realizing that some sort of tentacled critter had just landed in the man’s face. Distantly, he heard Mabel crying out, “Great throw, Grunkle Stan!”

Ford did not waste this opportunity; before the now screaming man could pry the creature off his mask, Ford grabbed him by the front of his robes, yanking him out of the hovercraft.

He didn’t have time to gather his breath; the vehicle was still barreling forward at high speed, heading toward a wall. Teeth gritting, Ford grabbed the controls, and there was a terrible screeching sound as he made a sharp turn to avoid a fiery end. The hovercraft came at a lurching stop seconds away from ramming into a stall—and into the poor multi-eyed lady who was tending to it. She was currently busy screaming at the top of her lungs.

Ford heard the children calling out his name. The twins were rushing toward the hovercraft, cheeks flushed in excitement. Ford could not help himself; he grinned and struck (well, what he hoped was) a cool pose.

Dipper and Mabel cheered loudly while Stan groaned.

As he and the children climbed into the vehicle, Ford’s brother distinctly muttered, “Show-off.”

Rolling his eyes, Ford started the engine. After offering a belated apology to the shrieking stall-keeper, he steered the hovercraft away from her stand.

As they sped out of the market, the twins whooped, laughing all the while. Stan grabbed the railing with one hand and his beanie with the other, face split in a grin.

Ford found himself smiling as well. He cranked up a lever, and the vehicle picked up more speed, to the delight of the children and Stan.

“ _Pines, Pines, Pines!_ ” the three of them chanted.

Without looking back, they flew out of the city, leaving mischief and mayhem in their wake.

All in all, a pretty typical shopping trip, as far as Ford was concerned.


	5. Chapter 5

Ford followed the canal until the lights of the city were well behind them.

The children and Stan ransacked the compartments of their new vehicle with much enthusiasm. Ford was relieved when they found a box full of rations and bottled drinks. The twins stumbled upon spare robes and masks as well, ones that resembled the outfits worn by their mysterious pursuers. For a while, Dipper and Mabel entertained themselves by trying them on. Ford was slightly disturbed to realize how much they looked like tiny cultists wearing those ugly things. 

Then again, he had been even more troubled when he’d found a certain wanted poster hanging beside the controls of the hovercraft…

After a few twists and turns, the river entered a cave, its entrance half-hidden by the presence of a few pink tree-like structures. Ford parked the hovercraft nearby, and the children hopped off the vehicle in a sudden show of excitement.

“Water!” Mabel squealed, running alongside her brother toward the creek.

“Wait!” Ford said, rushing after them. “It might not be water!” He has been to planets where there had been rainstorms of acid and tornados of glass shards and—

The twins had already removed their shoes and socks, and they were splashing in the river. Stan kept watch not far away, arms folded.

“Don’t you go in too deep, you hear?” he called out to the kids. “Can’t have you two drowning on me!”

Ford simply stopped and stared, weighed down by a sudden weariness. He turned away to hide a scowl, muttering, “I’m going to set up camp.”

As he walked away, he heard Stan saying, “I think you kids need to be more careful. Else you’re gonna give poor Sixer a heart attack one of these days.”

Ford didn’t hear Dipper and Mabel’s replies. He went at the mouth of the cave, putting down the pack sack they’d filled with their newfound supplies under the pink ‘trees’. It seemed like a good place as any.

The kids came back not long after, holding their shoes and socks. They both looked so equally miserable that Ford’s annoyance all but melted away.

“Sorry for worrying you, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel said. “We’ll be more careful next time.”

“You’re really on edge, aren’t you?” Dipper asked. “Is something wrong? Can we help?”

“I’ll be fine,” said Ford. “I just have to, well, take it as an _adventure_ , like you kids said.”

“You never had trouble doing that before,” Dipper said, sounding unconvinced.

“Aw, c’mon,” Stan said. “It’s no use wasting more brain juice on that sort of stuff. Let’s just get some rest under these…” He squinted his eyes. “Fugly pink-ass _trees_.”

Ford took a closer look and smiled. “Why, this is not a plant-based lifeform at all! I’d say this would be closer to a sea sponge, actually.”

“A sea sponge. On land. Seriously?” Stan rubbed the bridge of his nose, muttering curses under his breath. He reached to grab one branch and snapped it before Ford could place one word. “Huh. At least it could be useful to make a campfire, yeah?”

“Or it could explode at the contact of flames,” Ford said dryly. “Or release deadly fumes that will kill us in our sleep.”

Stan kept Ford’s gaze, his expression stony. He broke another branch in a slow, deliberate motion. Ford glared in response.

Thankfully, the pink, spongy material burned without exploding or letting out deadly gases. Stan and the twins huddled around the campfire, wearing those ridiculous robes to keep warm. They chewed on their rations without much enthusiasm. Ford didn’t think they tasted that bad. The rubbery texture reminded him of a giant squid monster he’d killed and eaten in a quaint little town named Wundich (the local fishpeople had then chased him out of their town for murdering their ‘god’).

“I told you we’d find a car,” Mabel eventually told her brother. “Well, sorta. It’s a _flying_ car, and that makes it even better, right?”

“I can’t believe Great Uncle Ford’s the one who actually stole it,” Dipper replied. “You’re losing your touch, Grunkle Stan.”

“Hmph!” said Stan. “As if!”

He took something—no, _several_ somethings—out of his sleeves and coat pockets. Soon, the ground was littered by more military-grade rations, two flasks, a few apple-like fruits, one loaf of spongy purple bread, and—Dipper made a choked little sound at that—a book bound in a blue cover.

“Boom!” Stan said, miming an explosion with his hands. “Who’s losing his goddamn touch, huh?”

“ _Stanley_ ,” Ford chided, equally impressed and dismayed.

“Oh.” Stan looked sheepish for a moment. “Yeah. Not s’posed to swear in front of the kids an’ all. Kinda forgot.”

Ford groaned, putting a hand over his face.

Dipper took the journal, eyes wide as saucers. “You stole it. You actually stole it. For _me?!_ ” He leafed through the book before looking at Stan with a frown. “I feel like I should be morally conflicted about this.”

“Sheesh, kid,” Stan said. “I thought it would make you _happy_.”

Dipper let out another strangled noise. Mabel patted his arm. “Just accept it, you dork.” She was hugging her ball of yarn like it was a precious plush toy.

“Anyway,” said Ford, “there’s something else we must discuss.” He unfolded the sheet of paper he’d found by the control panel of the hovercraft.

“A photograph?” Dipper said, puzzled, while his sister exclaimed, “Wow, a drawing!”

In the end, it was Stan who realized what it was first. “Wait, is that a wanted poster?”

Before Ford could move, Stan snatched out of his hands.

“It _is_ a wanted poster!” Stan said, gleefully. “A wanted poster of _Ford!_ ”

“No way!” Dipper said, while Mabel snickered, hiding her smile with one hand.

Ford tried to pry it from Stan’s hands, but his brother clung to it like it was a million-dollar cheque.

“Oh man!” he said. “That’s the best souvenir I coulda asked for! My nerdy bro, the wanted criminal! We need to frame it and hang it somewhere!”

“Where would you even put it?!” Ford snapped.

“On the fridge back home, of course. That way, ev’ry time I would look at the da—dang thing, I would remember how much I love the world and its wonders.”

“We could put it in a collage with all of your fake IDs, Grunkle Stan?” Mabel suggested.

“Great idea, sweetie!”

“Stanley!” Ford said. “Don’t you see what it means?”

“They weren’t chasing us because we messed with that merchant,” said Dipper. “They were _searching_ for us. That dimensional breach wasn’t just a crazy fluke.”

“Yes,” Ford said. “Someone brought us here, and that someone has enough power and authority at their disposal to send professionals after us.”

“Professionals, my wrinkly as—butt!” Stan scoffed. “Besides, the way I see it, basic strategy stays the same. We find the guys who brought us here and we beat the crap outta them until they nicely agree to send us home. We just, uh, need to hit harder, is all.”

“ _Stanley—_ ”

“Listen, Fordsie,” Stan said, not realizing how Ford winced at the nickname, “this ain’t my first gig and somethin’ tells me it ain’t your first either.”

“Yes,” Ford admitted, “but before, we didn’t have—” He stopped, glancing toward Dipper and Mabel. Before the kids could realize what he meant, Ford inhaled sharply, looking back at his brother. From the expression on Stan’s face, it seemed Ford’s twin had been struck by the same thought.

“He— _heck_ , let’s look at the bright side,” Stan said. “You gave them a solid thrashing. That’s a step in the right direction, isn’t it?”

Ford felt his tensions easing a little. “It’s petty to admit, but it did feel pretty good, yes.”

“Fact is, we need more information,” Dipper added. “At least we’ve got their uniforms now. That’s a start.”

“Yup!” his sister said. She made a face, sticking out her tongue. “If only they didn’t smell like the inside of a grandma’s closet…”

“Did the guys on the ship have masks like these?” Dipper asked, handing one of the grey masks to Ford.

Ford inspected the object in question. It resembled a gas mask, but the part covering the mouth was triangle-shaped. Ford remembered that their robes had been fitted with long and pointy hoods.

“With those masks on, they kinda look like those evil soldiers from that nerd sci-fi movie you guys like so much,” Mabel commented.

“And they seem about as competent,” Dipper said with a snort.

“They don’t look like cops to me,” said Stan. “Cops don’t go around wearing dresses while they’re on the job, do they?”

Ford’s frown deepened. “Dipper’s right, we just don’t have enough to go on.”

“Ugh,” said Stan. “You think we hafta go back to the city? I don’t think they’ll welcome us with open arms after the stunt you’ve just pulled.”

“The stunt _I’ve_ pulled?” Ford said incredulously. “Stanley, you stole from some poor merchants who probably just want to make an honest living!”

“And I’m jus’ a poor man who wants to feed his family. Get off my back, will ya?” 

Ford bit back another snarky retort. There had been a hint of genuine hurt in Stan’s voice. “Alright,” Ford said. “Maybe we should just call it a day. I’ll take first shift while you guys sleep.”

“No!” said Mabel. “Last night, you guys stood watch! I’ll do it!” At the same time, her brother said, “I can watch over the camp first.” Both twins shared a look, letting out a tired little laugh.

“You two need to rest,” Mabel said, patting Stan on the shoulder. “We’re big kids now, we can handle it.”

“Fine,” said Ford. “One of you gets first shift. After two hours, you wake the other, who then wakes _me_ up after another two hours so I can keep watch the rest of the night. Is that okay with you?”

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a knowing smirk. Still, they both nodded.

“Awright, let’s see which of you squirts goes first,” said Stan. “Eenie, meenie, miney…”

Dipper’s face drained of all colours. Mabel clutched at her ball of yarn, eyes wide and fearful.

“Stanley!” Ford said. “Those words…”

“Huh? What’s wrong?” Stan blinked, finally noticing the kids’ horrified expressions. “Wait, what did I do? W-What wrong with them?”

Ford swallowed nervously as he met his brother’s panicked gaze. He was almost jealous that Stan had apparently forgotten that moment. Ford didn’t have that luxury.

_(I THINK I’M GOING TO KILL ONE OF ‘EM NOW, JUST FOR THE HECK OF IT!_

_EENIE, MEENIE, MINEY…!)_

Ford closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to dispel the memory of that terrible voice. “It’s nothing, Stan,” he managed, giving his brother a reassuring look. “Everything’s fine.”

Stan didn’t seem convinced, but he said nothing. He wrapped the robes tighter around him, frown deepening.

“I’ll do it,” Dipper said. The boy tried so hard to sound brave, and it tugged at Ford’s heartstrings. “It’ll, uh, give me some time to write down everything that’s happened so far.”

“Good idea, my boy,” Ford said, still glancing at Stan.

“Alright, then!” Mabel said. Her smile was big and bright… and _just_ a bit forced. “Time for your old man nap, Grunkle Stan!” She lightly shoved Stan, forcing him to lie down, before patting the spot next to her. “You two, Grunkle Ford!”

Ford sat down next to her, trying not to laugh as she threw one of the uniforms over him like it was a blanket. “Just so you two know, if anything happens while I’m asleep…”

“We’ll wake you up, yeah, yeah,” Mabel said, rolling her eyes and pushing at him. “Sleep! _Sleep_ , dangit!”

Ford laid down, chuckling. “Alright, then.”

For a while, there was only the crackle of the fire and the soft scratches of Dipper’s pen on paper. Ford closed his eyes, letting those comforting sounds lulling to sleep.

He was half asleep when he realized Stan wasn’t snoring. Through eyes blurry with exhaustion, Ford caught his brother’s gaze.

Stan stared back, brow creased in worry. Before Ford could say anything, he turned to face the other way.

Sleep claimed Ford not long afterwards.

* * *

Soos, McGucket and Pacifica set out in the early morning for the crash site.

According to the old man’s (admittedly) fuzzy recollections, getting to the derelict UFO required at least a whole day. Pacifica didn’t even utter a single complain at the idea of going on a camping trip with the village kook and the owner of the local tourist trap. She even brought her own gear and supplies, saying she didn’t trust them to be adequately prepared. Soos was a little floored, to tell the truth; he didn’t even expect her to have a pair of good hiking shoes, let alone a sleeping bag.

Wendy and the girls saw them off while making their own preparations. Their plan was to sneak into the dumping site in the dark of night, before skedaddling with the nuclear waste using Stan’s car. Soos wasn’t sure the latter part was such a good idea, but Wendy had dismissed his protest with the wave of a hand, saying, “Psh, Stan’ll never know. Better his car than my dad’s truck, you know?” She had grinned at him. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to give this baby a joyride.”

Following McGucket’s instructions, Soos drove them to the lake, where they followed a trail going deep into the woods. The whole of their trek was spent under a bright, sunny sky, and Soos was delighted to find a singing partner in McGucket. The old man was surprisingly good at improvising anime openings on his banjo (though his Japanese was a bit off in some places). Behind them, Pacifica often muttered things like, “Oh god, someone please kill me _now_.”

The sun was setting when they arrived at a hill located in a perfectly circular crater. McGucket was the first to reach the top. As he contemplated the cliffs overlooking the town to the south, he stopped strumming his banjo.

“Mr. McGucket?” Soos asked him. “Are you alright, dude?”

“It’s so strange… Ah wasn’t sure Ah’d find the place, and yet…” The old man shook his head. “There’re still so many important things Ah still don’t remember. Why do Ah remember _this?_ ”

“I dunno, dawg,” Soos offered. After thinking about it, he added, “It _is_ kinda important, you know. If you hadn’t remembered this place, then we wouldn’t have been able to repair the portal and save Stan and Dipper and Mabel! And Ford too!”

“Ah guess yer right. Always a silver lining, is there?” McGucket adjusted his hat, looking more determined. “Yer good at finding these, kiddo.”

Soos laughed. “Aw, it’s no big deal! Let set up camp, dudes! I’m starving!”

He and McGucket dived for their lunch, famished by their afternoon trek. Pacifica eyed her sandwich dubiously before taking a bite.

“Peanut butter and jelly?” she said, grimacing. “Really?”

“It’s Tater Tot’s favourite kind,” McGucket said. “Or at least, t’was back when he was a kiddy. It’s also the only kinda sandwich Ah can make!”

Pacifica only raised a single eyebrow in response.

She was equally silent as they helped her set up her tent. McGucket and Soos had agreed to sleep outside to let her have some space. Soos didn’t mind; he was looking forward to sleeping under the stars, having never gone camping before. As for McGucket… well, the old man cheerfully told him that grass was a great deal more comfortable than anything he’d ever used as a mattress when he’d lived in the dump. Barely a minute after they’d gone to sleep, he was snoring like a buzz saw.

* * *

The old man woke them at first light the next morning. “Wakey, wakey!” he exclaimed, a bit too cheerfully for Soos’ taste. “We got a long day ahead of us!”

They ate their breakfast at breakneck speed, Pacifica looking particularly murderous and sleep-deprived (there was probably a link between the two, Soos figured). McGucket was the first to finish. As Soos and Pacifica took down her tent, he waddled to the top of the hill, crowbar in hands.

He pushed aside a large rock and stabbed at the ground with the crowbar. To Soos’ surprise, there was a sharp, resounding clang, and a metallic panel flew off the ground. “Voilà!” McGucket said, doing a little jig of victory before gesturing the secret hatch leading to the buried wreck.

“No way, dude!” said Soos. “It was under us the whole time? This is, like, seriously rad!”

It was a shame that he hadn’t brought Melody along. She had told him someone needed to tend to the shop, but Soos knew she would have loved to go camping on the top of an UFO of all things. He made a note to bring her back for a picnic later this summer.

Soos was daydreaming about the perfect romantic getaway as he followed McGucket into the hatch. The metallic ladder creaked rather horribly, and Pacifica kept muttering, “Don’t break, don’t break, don’t break.”

She let out a sigh of relief as they dropped on a metallic floor, sending a deep reverberation through the empty space. Soos inspected his surroundings with his flashlight, mouth hanging open. The place was so big the whole Shack could probably fit in it. Circular symbols were engraved in the walls, while tufts of grass grew between the metal plates under their feet. Soos heard a cawing sound echoing in the distance, making him laugh out loud.

“Wow!” he exclaimed. “I think there’s like, alien birds in here somewhere, dudes!”

Pacifica grimaced. “Great. Don’t tell me we have to fend off monsters too. I thought you said there weren’t any aliens around, McGucket.”

“Oh, they’re all dead, sure.” There was a pause, then McGucket added, sounding puzzled, “Are _they?_ ”

“Wonderful,” said Pacifica. “Let’s get this over with before some horrible creature decide to attach itself to our faces and—”

“Oh!” said Soos. “You’ve seen that movie, Pacifica? Wouldn’t have taken you for a fan of sci-fi, dude.”

It was hard to tell in the dim lighting of their flashlights, but Pacifica seemed to blush. “T-That’s because I’m not!”

She turned to walk away, only to bump into McGucket. The old man stood very still. In fact, he hadn’t budged an inch since they’d arrived here.

“McGucket?” Pacifica asked. “Is something wrong?”

“Ah… Ah don’t remember the layout of the place…” he muttered. “We need to find the engine room… Ah think?”

“You _think?!_ ” Pacifica repeated. She inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring. “Oh, whatever. We’ll improvise somehow. That’s how Dipper and Mabel do it, anyway. Their plans _always_ go off the rails.”

“Definitely!” said Soos. “Part of the Pines charm, I guess!”

“Alright, then,” Pacifica said. “If I was a _stupid_ engine room in a _stupid_ spacecraft, where would I be…?”

McGucket pointed downward with both hands. “Deeper in the ship. Tha’s where Ah would put it meself.”

“Got it. McGucket, you go first. You’re the adult, after all.”

“I’m an adult too,” Soos told Pacifica.

In response, she only spared him a disdainful glance.

They moved forward, going deeper into the wreckage. Soos took as many pictures as he could, partly for Melody’s sake, partly to use as backgrounds for his video fan fictions about the Stans’ adventures. At one point, they spied an adjacent room through a half-open door. It was filled with large glass tanks, most being broken and empty. The place reminded Soos of the lab where the specimens had been kept in Dr. Pines’ bunker.

“Oh man,” Soos said, “place got creepy all of a sudden.”

“Don’t say things like that!” Pacifica hissed. “You _want_ this to turn into a horror movie, is that it?”

“Wonder what they kept in there,” Soos mused, undeterred by Pacifica’s admonition.

“All manners of alien critters, pro’bly,” said McGucket. As Pacifica glared at him, he added, “All dead now, of course.”

“Whatever,” Pacifica said. “Let’s just get on with it.”

It was hard knowing just how long they walked. Soos tried to keep a tally of the steps they took down every stairwell they found, but he soon lost count. At one point, they had to climb down a slightly tilted elevator shaft using some of Wendy’s gear—Soos couldn’t say he had particularly enjoyed the experience. Even after they’d found solid ground, his heart could not stop pounding.

Soon, no natural light filtered through, and rust replaced the patches of moss that they had seen earlier on. The air was stale, filled with the unpleasant odour of dust and decay. McGucket muttered to himself more and more, in a way that tugged at Soos' heartstrings. Pacifica’s scowl seemed to grow deeper with every wrong turn they made. Even Soos’ naturally boundless enthusiasm was starting to falter.

Finally, McGucket came to a sudden stop, and he used his flashlight to show what was in front of him. Their path was blocked by machinery. Several strange devices were connected to the upper parts of the ship by large pipes. Various symbols still glowed faintly, probably offering instructions or warnings.

“Gimme more light, will ya?” McGucket said, rummaging through his bag to grab his tools. He frowned, obviously not finding what he was looking for. “Now, where did Ah put the dang thing…?”

“You looking for this?” Soos said, holding the crowbar. “I can help if you want. I used to be Mr. Pines’ handyman, you know!”

McGucket stared at him, eyes made comically large by his coke bottle glasses. “Fer sure! Let’s get to dismantlin’!”

The old man tore the machinery apart with much glee. Soos had to admit it _was_ certainly fun in a cathartic way. Pacifica stood beside them, tapping her foot as she held up her flashlight.

“Is that’s all I’m good for?” Soos heard her mumbling. “Being the world’s prettiest lamp? And here I thought I’d actually _contribute_ in some way…”

“Don’t say that, dawg,” Soos replied. “No one ever said a lamp was useless, right?”

She quirked an eyebrow, but otherwise said nothing.

Soos stuck out his tongue as he worked to pry open a panel. Finally, it fell to the floor with a satisfying _clang_ that echoed in the empty space surrounding them. “There you go, dudes!”

Pacifica startled at the noise, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like a curse. McGucket only gave Soos a thumb’s up, saying, “Thanks, sonny!”

The old man crawled into the space Soos had opened, holding his flashlight in his mouth. More loud _clangs_ and _bangs_ followed, making Pacifica fidget on her spot.

“Does he really have to be so noisy?” she griped.

McGucket finally emerged from his hole. He was holding a cylindrical doodad in his hands. “Found it!” he said, rather loudly.

“Keep it down, you crazy old coot!” Pacifica hissed. “With all the racket that you’re making, who knows what kind of creepy critter might hear us?”

“Pish-posh, Ah told ya, ev’rything’s been dead for years!”

The instant those words left McGucket’s mouth, they heard a bloodcurdling growl echoing somewhere in the darkness.

Pacifica glared at McGucket. “Does _that_ sound dead to you?!”

“But tha’s what Stanferd said—” McGucket blinked, his confused expression replaced by a frown. “ _Oh_. Shoulda figured.”

More snarls came from the same direction as before, followed by the scratch of claws on a metal floor. _Something_ was moving in the gloom, something that seemed all too unhappy about their intrusion into its home.

“ _Dudes_ ,” said Soos. His hands tightened around his crowbar. “What do we _do?!_ ”

McGucket hid behind him, still holding the parts he had scavenged. Pacifica let out a sound of irritation, before grabbing a hammer.

“Get ready,” she hissed between grit teeth. “I’m going to try to blind that thing with my flashlight. Handyboy, kill it while it’s distracted.”

“W-What?” said Soos. “B-But…”

“ _Now!_ ” She raised her flashlight, illuminating the area in front of them. There was a yelp, and something moved, backing away until it nearly hit the wall. A creature the size of a large dog was snarling at them, body lowered and tense. Its facial features were reptilian, but the whole of its body was covered by fur—no, Soos realized upon closer inspection, by _wool_.

“Wait!” said Pacifica. “Don’t make any sudden movement! I think… I think it’s scared of us…”

The creature hissed again, woollen fur bristling. Its jaws were wide open, showing… well, not quite sharp teeth, actually.

Pacifica unwrapped a granola bar, throwing it at the ground. The creature sniffed at it suspiciously, before taking a bite. When it was finished, Pacifica tossed an apple its way. To Soos’ surprise, it ate the fruit as well, with more enthusiasm than before, even.

The creature seemed less nervous now, taking a tentative step toward Soos and the others. It lowered its snout, big eyes still fixed on them. The wool around its neck was fluffier than the rest of its fur. It almost made it look like it was wearing an old lady’s coat.

“It’s kinda cute,” said Soos. “It’s like, a tiny dino dude, but with wool. A dinosheep! Or a _llamasaur!_ ”

“I’m not calling it that,” said Pacifica. She threw a strawberry at the creature. It devoured it with utter delight.

“If Stanferd were here, he woulda called it sumthin’ like that,” McGucket said, sounding fondly amused.

Pacifica scrunched up her nose. “He really _is_ Dipper’s uncle, isn’t he? And to think I thought he actually looked cool—I-I mean, _competent_.”

McGucket burst into laughter, tears forming at the corner of his eyes. The creature startled, staring at him with a wide-eyed gaze. Before they could say anything, it scurried away, disappearing back into the darkness.

“Aw,” said Soos. “And just when we were just about to befriend the little dude! Or, at least, Pacifica was. I didn’t know you were so good with animals.”

She was holding another apple. Without meeting Soos’ gaze, she tucked it back into her bag. “I used to have ponies, you know.”

“Used to?” Soos asked.

“It’s not important,” Pacifica said abruptly. “We got what we came for, don’t we, McGucket?”

For a moment, McGucket looked sadly at her. Then he replied, “That we do.”

“Good. Then let’s get out of here. I’m sick of this place.” She jutted her chin at Soos. “I’ll take the lead. You keep the rear and watch over McGucket.”

“Okay!” Soos found himself smiling at her. For someone who was afraid to be useless, she sure found her footing fast. “Let’s go, hambone!”

He hummed on the way back, thinking a bit of singing would be good for team building purposes. Soon, McGucket was strumming on his banjo in a surprisingly perfect addition to Soos’ nonsensical tune. Pacifica didn’t even think of asking them to shut up.

As such, they did not hear the pitter-patter of clawed feet following after them.


	6. Chapter 6

After Soos and the others left for the UFO crash site, Wendy took the Stanmobile up for a spin.

Candy and Grenda had been all too happy to wear all black and put on their war paint—or, as Candy so aptly put it, dress up as warrior ninjas. The girls’ excitement went through the proverbial roof as Wendy turned the volume up to the max. It wouldn’t feel right to rob the government without an appropriately punk soundtrack, she felt.

Wendy, for her part, had… _borrowed_ a hazmat suit from Stan. It had been fun to try it on and pretend she’d come out of a post-apocalyptic movie. It had been _less_ fun to rifle through Stan’s closet to find the damn thing. Stan, being a dumbass, just couldn’t hide his stash under his bed just like any sane person did, oh no siree. Wendy was looking forward to using the incriminating magazines as kindling for a celebratory bonfire. As compensation for all her troubles, she’d pilfered a bottle of whiskey. Stupid old man owed her that much, at least.

The dumping site was exactly where McGucket had said it would be. Wendy parked the car somewhere in the woods, waiting for the cover of darkness. Candy had come up with the brilliant idea to shrink the hazmat suit and the barrels of waste using the flashlight Dipper had made. Wendy wasn’t exactly looking forward to carrying the stuff in her backpack, but they were kinda strapped for options.

She used a pair of binoculars she found in the Shack (they were so damn fancy they _had_ to belong to Stan’s bro) to take a peek at the place. According to McGucket, the waste barrels were stocked inside a warehouse. The wire fence surrounding the building wasn’t as tall as she’d expected; by climbing one of the nearby trees, it would be easy to get in.

Wendy handed the binoculars to Candy, putting on her mask and tucking her red braid under a black beanie. “Alright,” she told the younger girl. “Keep an eye out and gimme a holler if you spot someone coming.”

Candy offered her a salute. “Roger that.”

“Grenda, ready for your diversion?”

“Girl,” Grenda said with a grin, “you gotta ask?”

“Cool.” Wendy returned Candy’s salute. “Later, dorks.”

Wendy sneaked closer to the fence and found a tree tall enough for her need. She took the climbing gear her dad had given her for her tenth birthday, trying to make her way up without being too noisy. Once she was at the top, she tied her rope to the thickest branch she could find, throwing the rest over the fence. She slid down the rope as silently as she could, hoping it would not break from her weight.

Wendy grinned as she touched the ground. _So far, so good._ “C?” she whispered through her walky-talky. “Got a visual on me?”

“ _Yes!_ ” came Candy’s voice. “ _According to Mr. McGucket,_ _there’s a door on the side you can use_.” There was a pause, and then she added, “ _Oh! A black car just pulled up and… I think one person got out? The security guards are running toward him. They all seem kinda nervous for some reason._ ”

“Huh,” Wendy replied. “Well, I’m just glad they aren’t going my way. Thanks for the head’s up, C.”

Hiding in a shadowed corner, she put on the hazmat suit, inwardly cursing all the while. She bit down another series of swears as she waddled around in her stupid new duds. Wendy hadn’t even wanted to wear the damn thing, but McGucket had moaned and griped about safety measures, which was _rich_ coming from someone who’d helped build a portal to a dimension full of effin’ _demons_.

She let out a sigh of relief as she pushed the door open. Picking the lock would have been a drag with those stupid rubber gloves. Wendy found herself in a hallway. Voices filtered through a half-open door to her right, and she found herself glancing in that direction.

In the other room, a red-haired man in a black suit was talking to two guys wearing lab coats. She could barely hear what they were saying, but it was clear from their body language that the guy in the black suit was _tearing_ into them.

“… _says here_ …” Wendy could hear him shouting, “… _barrels gone missing_ … _!_ ”

“…almost a year ago!” one of the lab coat-wearing men sputtered in response.

Wendy turned the other way. It seemed to lead to the back of the building. A janitor was mopping the floor, ears covered by headphones blaring loud music. It was stupidly easy, swiping his key card without him noticing. Wendy could almost picture Stan wiping a tear of pride off his eye.

Finally, she came up to a door, one covered in warnings of all kind. Wendy used the key card she’d stolen from the janitor, reaching in a room with a garage door. Hundreds of barrels filled up the large space of the storage area.

“Hey!” someone called out. Another guy in a hazmat suit was walking toward her.

Wendy froze, stifling a curse. “Y-Yeah?” she said.

“Your shift starts in fifteen minutes, doesn’t it? Aren’t you a bit early?” He paused for a moment, assessing Wendy. “Wait, you’re the new hire, ain’tcha?”

Wendy blinked. _Oh thank god_. “Some government suits is giving the boss hell in the break room,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Got tiring of hearing him screaming, y’know.”

The guy actually laughed. “Oh man, gotta see this. For years, I’ve been calling this place a OSHA nightmare. Good that the higher-ups finally decided to send someone to check on things, huh?”

“Yep,” Wendy said.

He tapped Wendy’s shoulder. “Welp, have a nice night. See ya.”

Wendy fought the urge to snort. Well, _that_ explained how Stan had gotten his hands on the damn stuff. A part of her was almost disappointed that it was so easy.

Wendy set out to shrink the nearest waste drums, shoving as many as she could inside a garbage bag. She was on her fifth barrel when she heard voices nearby, and she hastily hid her loot in her packsack. It was a good call; one second later, and the red-haired guy was stomping inside, followed by two men in lab coats.

“Sir,” one of the lab coat dudes said, “you shouldn’t be here, not without the proper PPE—”

“Can it,” the red-haired man said. He took a good fifteen seconds to adjust his lapels and cuffs, and Wendy was filled with the irrational urge to kick him in the shins. “Hmm. I can already find eight hazard violations in this one, single room. Nine if I’m not feeling charitable.”

“The previous audits never—”

“You,” Ginger Asshole said, gesturing to Wendy, “come over here. I’ve got a few questions.”

Wendy slung her bag over her shoulder, moving cautiously toward the guy. “Y-Yeah? ‘bout what?”

He took a notepad and a pen as she made her approach. His gaze fell on Wendy’s bag, and he frowned slightly. Not long after, his eyebrows shot up in realization. “Wait a minute—”

Wendy made a run for it.

“Grab him!” she heard Ginger Asshole shouting.

Wendy rammed into one of the lab coat guys. He crashed into his colleague, and they toppled to the ground in an undignified heap. Wendy ran through the door, only for someone to grab her arm, stopping her in her tracks. Ginger Asshole was scowling at her, reaching for something in his jacket.

“Sorry,” Wendy muttered, “nothing personal, dude.”

Her fist collided with his cheekbone, and she winced at the pain flaring from her knuckles. Thankfully, her punch was enough to make him sway on his feet. Wendy rushed forward, grabbing at her walky-talky to shout, “G! Time to unleash chaos!”

“ _Got it!_ ” came the reply, full of static and manic energy.

Wendy ran out of the building just in time to hear people shouting in the distance. Candy had helped McGucket modify his crab robots so they’d be able to throw projectiles from a long distance. Grenda, for her part, had spent the better part of the afternoon making glitter bombs, following Mabel’s trusty recipe. Or, Wendy realized as she saw a gigantic glittery cloud erupting in the distance, _perfecting_ it.

Wendy realized belatedly that the red-haired guy was still running after her. She swore loudly. Usually, she would have left his crabby ass in the dust, but that goddamn hazmat suit was slowing her down.

“ _G! Throw one behind me! Quickly!_ ” Wendy shouted into her walky-talky.

She couldn’t say she didn’t feel _just_ a bit of satisfaction at seeing the guy bursting out of the door, only to be splattered with attack glitter.

“My _eyes!_ ” he screamed. “ _Oh my god!_ ”

Wendy kept running. He was overreacting… probably. It wasn’t like glitter was lethal, anyway.

She reached the rope she’d left hanging and cursed. How would she even climb the damn thing in her stupid suit, weighed down by a bag full with cans filled with toxic ooze?

“Wendy!” a voice said from over the fence. Candy was pointing up. One of McGucket’s crab robots was climbing the tree. It grabbed the rope between its pincers, and Wendy held to the other end as it tugged, pulling her to its side of the fence. The little crab was even enough of a gentleman to carry her bag down while Wendy made her way to the ground.

Wendy patted its metallic head. “Did I ever say just how happy that McGucket’s on our side now and not building homicidal robots anymore? ‘Cause I really am!”

“And his new models are so cute, too!” Candy cooed. The robot replied with an inquisitive little beep. “Yes, you are, you good boy, you!”

Grenda was running toward them, followed by her two robotic accomplices. “You have what we came for?” she asked Wendy.

“Yep! Everyone, get in the car!”

Once everyone was in the safe confines of the vehicle, Wendy removed her mask, grinning at Candy, Grenda and their three mechanical helpers. “ _Mission accomplished_.”

She was rewarded by whoops from the girls and a tinny little tune from the crab bots.

* * *

Ford tinkered on the hovercraft while the others slept.

Mabel had woken him a little later than they had agreed, which meant that she and her brother had been shared guarding duties for most of the night. Ford had to admit she’d been crafty on that front. His niece was starting to take after Stan; Ford didn’t know if he found it endearing or worrying.

Three or four hours later, his brother sat up, yawning and stretching, Ford greeted him with a smile.

“Good morning, Stanley. Did you sleep well?”

Stan looked blearily at the sky. “Is it ever morning here? The moon’s still up. Well, moon _s_.”

“I have observed a subtle day-night circle, yes,” said Ford. “There’s more light now than a few hours ago. The planet must be tilted at a certain angle, which means that—”

“Ugh. My brain’s already melting from all the shit that’s been going on. Keep the nerd talk to a minimum, will ya?”

“But with so little light—” Dipper’s voice was interrupted by a big yawn, “—how do the plants survive and stuff?”

“They must have adapted, like all life on this planet,” Ford said. “Good morning, by the way.”

“Good morning, Great Uncle Ford…”

Next to him, Mabel was sitting up, hair a frizzly mess. “Morning, you guys. What’s for breakfast, more protein bars and weird fruits?” When Ford nodded, she gave a dramatic sigh. “When we’ll be back, we’ll have this _epic_ breakfast, with pancakes and whipped cream and _bacon_ —”

Both Stan and Dipper groaned. “C’mon, Mabel,” her brother said, while their uncle whined, “Why so _cruel_ , pumpkin?”

“Anyway,” Ford said, putting an end to their griping, “I’ve used the radio emitter I found in the hovercraft to build a little something for you three.” He showed them the bracelets he’d been making. “These little babies allow you to use my translator remotely. Blending in will be easier if you can speak and understand the local language, right?”

It was a bit childish to admit, but Ford felt a burst of pride as Stan and the kids put on their translator bracelets, praising his work (or, in Stan’s case, raving about the money Ford could do with that kind of gadget). They tested the efficiency of the devices by having Stan telling them bad jokes in Spanish; the translator didn’t work very well with puns, sadly enough.

“I’ve also found this yesterday in the ship,” Ford said, holding a small, beeping device. “It’s a tracker. I managed to change the frequency it emits, and now only our bracelets can get its signal.”

“ _Ooh!_ ” said Mabel. “You’re so smart, Grunkle Ford!”

Ford gave her a little bow, and she giggled. “Thank you, sweetheart. That leaves only last topic I need to address. The most important of all, in fact.” He paused, finding it surprisingly hard to put his idea into words. “As I said before, dimensional tears do happen naturally. There are certain places where the space between realities is a little thinner.” He tapped at the wristwatch he always wore. “I’ve hopped from dimension to dimension by finding those places. There’s always some residual energy left behind when a dimensional tear is opened. In some cases, I can even offer an estimate of when the tear will open again.”

Stan and the twins seemed to be hanging to his every word. “So, you’ve got kind of a radar, but for dimensional anomalies?” Dipper asked.

“Yes,” said Ford. Strangely enough, he could find no comfort in the hint of admiration he’d heard in his nephew’s voice.

“So,” Stan said, “don’t want to get my hopes up, but… d’you think you could find one of these dimensional tears here too?”

Ford set his mouth into a grim line. “That’s what we’re about to find out.”

“Alright,” Stan said. “At least it’s not a no. I can live with that.”

“We should also try to find the name of this dimension. Or at least its designation in the commonly accepted dimensional classification system.”

“There’s one of these?” Stan said, quirking an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah,” Dipper said. “Like how our universe is called Dimension 46 or something?”

“Dimension 46’/, yes,” Ford corrected. “We’re an offshoot of an original Dimension 46, hence the slight difference in the name.”

“Really?” Dipper began to click enthusiastically on one of his numerous pens, and Ford had to hide a smile. “Why would that happen? Our universe deviating from the original, I mean.”

Ford shrugged. “It might be for a number of reasons. Maybe the Big Bang happened a few years too late. Maybe the moon landing wasn’t faked, maybe—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Dipper. “The moon landing was _faked?!_ ”

“Of course,” Ford said, slightly dumbfounded. “It’s not common knowledge, but—”

“Who _cares?_ ” Stan interrupted him. “That’s not our priority, and you know it, brainiac.”

Ford bristled at the moniker, shooting his brother a look of annoyance.

“I mean,” Stan continued, “first in the order of things is to find out why those numbnuts are after you, right?”

“Without getting caught, yes,” Ford said.

“How did you get by anyway? Back in the day, I mean.”

“With my hood up, and a scarf over my face, usually,” Ford answered. “Either people were unobservant or I was _very_ lucky.”

“So disguises are our best bet, huh?” said Mabel. She looked up and down at the rest of her family. “We don’t have a lot to work with, honest.”

“What’s that’s s’posed to mean?” Stan said, feigning outrage.

“Hey, guys?” Dipper said. “I think we’re sleeping on the most obvious solution.” He was holding something made of grey cloth.

“The spare uniforms!” Ford said. “I’d almost forgotten!”

“Do we have to?” Stan said. “Who knows what kind of dumbasses wore these before?”

“Spending so much time away from us really broke your speech filter,” Dipper commented, making Stan roll his eyes in response.

“Hmm,” said Mabel. “They’re a big too big for Dipdop and me. Unless I step on his shoulders and we—”

“Nope. Not happening.”

“Aw. It would be fun to pretend to be grown-ups. We could sneak inside a club and drink the night away!”

Ford glared at Stan. The latter held up his hands, sputtering, “Hey, why are you looking at me like that? What did I do?”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Dipper said, “Mabel and me just need to look a little different. I don’t think they actually got a good look at our faces when they were chasing us.”

Mabel climbed on tiptoes, taking the glasses from Ford’s face. “Ta-dah!” she said, putting them on. “Perfect disguise, comic book style!”

A few minutes later, and the kids were finished with their disguises. Dipper wore Stan’s jacket, glasses and red beanie, while Mabel inherited her brother’s unshanka, along with Ford’s coat and spectacles. Mabel had rubbed some of the phosphorescent weed on both of their faces, making their cheeks glow faintly. Ford desperately hoped this would not end in a horrible skin rash.

Stan shuffled a bit in his stolen robes. “I hate this already,” he muttered. “I look like a dingus.”

Ford looked at his bare hands; of course the gloves that came with the outfit didn’t fit all of his six fingers. He hoped no one would be perceptive enough to notice.

“With a little luck, we don’t encounter any of our, uh, _colleagues_ while we’re in the city,” Ford said.

“I just hope you’re not dressed like members of the local mafia,” Dipper said with a wince.

“Or like some lunatics from a baby-killing cult!” his sister added.

Stan put on his mask. “Welp, I can’t see _shit_ without my glasses! This is _stupid_.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll guide you,” said Mabel. “Like a pair of faithful golden retrievers.”

“It’s not like we can see any better, Mabel,” said Dipper. “Your glasses are giving one heck of a headache, Grunkle Stan.”

They went on foot, not having enough fuel in their vehicle to make the trip. Ford guided them away from the market, heading instead toward the biggest pyramidal building in town. The structure was so tall it dominated the whole of the city, in a manner that made Ford ill at ease. A tower was built atop the pyramid, windowless save for the portion at the top.

A crowd was gathering in the plaza in front of the pyramidal structure. On an elevated platform, Ford spied several people wearing familiar masks and robes. One of the grey-robed people held a pale orange banner depicting a certain symbol: a white circle divided in the middle by a vertical line.

The crowd grew more excited when a tall and thin figure climbed the dais. The only word Ford could use to describe him was… _yellow_. His skin was yellow, his long hair was yellow, his damned _robes_ were yellow. It was an affront to one’s eyesight, really.

Then again, Ford was certainly biased against the colour.

“Greetings, dear friends!” the man announced, to the delight of the onlookers. “Oh, it gives me so much joy so see you here, all ready to bask in the light of the Dawn!”

Dipper glanced at the sky. “The _dawn?_ Is it ever dawn here?”

Next to him, a man with pink skin and five eyes muttered, “Yeah, I always wonder what he means too.” His face then broke into an eerie grin. “But maybe if we all follow the teachings, the sun will finally rises! Whatever the sun is, I mean!”

“The sun will finally—” The rest of the sentence sounded so silly to Ford’s ears he could not even complete it. Like Dipper, he looked upward. As always, the sky was set in a state of perpetual dusk, the sun nowhere to be seen.

“Sadly, the age of the sun is not yet at hand,” the man on the stage continued. “But do not despair, dearest comrades, do not despair! Though we cannot feel his warmth on our skins yet, the Eye of Dawn sees all your deeds! Let’s all work hard to be worthy of his attentions. Be creative. Be passionate. But most of all, be _weird_.”

“Be weird?” Stan snickered. “What kind of religion is this?”

“Maybe they’re just really into art and craft?” Mabel offered.

Lemon Guy scanned the crowd, and Ford tensed. The man froze as well, mouth stuck open.

He’d just caught sight of the two brothers in their stolen outfits.

“Hell,” Stan muttered. “Ford, we need to move out—”

“Why, how odd!” the yellow priest said brightly. “Two of our comrades—two of the _chosen_ —standing among the uninitiated.”

Countless pairs of eyes turned toward Ford and his family. Lemon Guy held his hand out; even without his glasses, Ford could see that his expression was about as warm as the grin of a used car dealer smelling a new opportunity.

“Come, brothers!” he said. “Come share your experience with the masses!”

Dozens of arms pushed Stan and Ford to the stage, while the rest of the crowd cheered. Dipper and Mabel shared twin expressions of horror as their uncles took place next to the yellow-robed priest.

Lemon Guy had five eyes, all of them yellow, of course. His robes were outfitted with _stupidly_ pointy shoulder pads, and his long hair was neatly combed back. Ford was filled with instant revulsion at the sight of his face-splitting grin and his gleaming, perfect teeth.

“See, people?” Lemon Guy addressed the crowd. “This is what we could all become. Strong, fearless soldiers, working tirelessly to bring about the coming of the Eye of Dawn.” The onlookers _oohed_ and _aahed_ at the appropriate moments.

 _Soldiers_ , Ford thought. The word was ominous. He hid his hands behind his back, gritting his teeth. He had lost control of the situation so quickly it was almost embarrassing.

“That’s right!” Stan exclaimed.

Ford stifled a yelp. What was Stanley _doing?_

“I used to be like you!” Stan continued, ignoring the peeved look Lemon Guy gave him. “But it all changed when I joined these guys!” He jabbed a finger at a weedy-looking youth in the front row. “You! What would _you_ change about your life?”

All three of the kid’s eyes widened, and he blushed a deeper purple. “Um… I always wanted to be more popular…”

Stan made finger-guns at the guy. “Hah! Just sayin’, but the ladies dig me so much now I have to fend ‘em off with a stick! Think about it, pal! That could be you!”

Ford could only stare in mute horror as Stan suckered in more unsuspecting victims, telling them bogus stories about being a devotee of the Eye of Dawn. In a span of minutes, Stan had them laughing and cheering on command.

Meanwhile, Lemon Guy seemed about to blow a gasket.

Ford snuck closer to his brother. Stan was in the middle of explaining his tragic backstory, and many tears were being shed in the audience.

“Stanley,” he muttered, “we need to _go_.”

“Huh?” said Stan. He tilted his head toward the yellow-robed priest, who would probably have gone red by now if he had been human. “Oh, yeah.” He turned toward the adoring masses, arms open. “Welp, that’s all folk! Back to the mission it is!”

“ _Yes_ ,” someone hissed. Lemon Guy was clutching a piece of paper in his hands. Ford’s heart leaped in his throat as he realized what it must be. “Back to the mission with you, soldier. Why, what a perfect way to segue into our next topic…”

“ _Segue?_ ” Stan snorted, elbowing Ford. “What kinda guy use words like that in real life?”

Lemon Guy unfolded Ford’s wanted poster, presenting it to the crowd. Stan uttered a strangled curse.

“This man here,” Lemon Guy said brightly, “is a friend to us all!”

“ _What_ ,” said Stan.

For his part, Ford could only stare, mouth agape behind his mask.

Lemon Guy put a hand over his heart, face showing just the right amount of pathos. “Yes, this man here is destined to bring about the coming of dawn. With his aid, the sun will rise again!”

“ _What the everlasting fu—_ ” Stan began.

“Each of us can do our part!” Lemon Guy interrupted him, sounding far too much like a demented camp counselor for Ford’s liking. “If you ever see our prophesized hero, please notify a Follower immediately so they can bring him back to the Temple!” He gestured at the pyramidal structure behind him. “We’re all counting on you, my friends!”

“Uh, yes, sir, aye aye!” Stan said, with a mock salute. Ford fought the urge to push him off the stage. 

“Dedicated to the cause, are you?” There was something strange gleaming in all five of Lemon Guy’s eyes. “It won’t be long until you earn your colours, soldier.”

Stan hesitated. “Uh, yeah. That’s my biggest ambition in life. Definitely.”

“You see, people? That’s the kind of enthusiasm we love!” Lemon Guy’s smile had grown into a sneer. Still, the moment he turned his gaze away from Stan, his salesman’s grin was back in full force. “Carlus is handling our merchandise stand at the back. Say hi to Carlus, everyone!”

The crowd mumbled in unison, sounding somewhat confused. The grey-robed guy handing the stall gave an enthusiastic wave of the hand.

“Keep in mind that all sales go to funding our shared dream,” Lemon Guy continued. “So if you buy a talisman to protect yourself from twilight spirits, then you further our chances of success! A win-win situation, I tell you!”

By then, Ford was dragging his brother off the platform. Stan was nodding, saying, “Huh… not bad, not bad at all…”

Ford pushed him through the crowd, still ill at ease. He could almost feel Lemon Guy’s eyes on his back. “C’mon, Stan. We need to find the kids and get out of here.”

“Grunkle Ford! Grunkle Stan!” a voice said nearby. Ford sighed in relief as he caught sight of Mabel, her brother closely following after her. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Ford said, glancing behind him. Lemon Guy was still talking, and his grey-robed goons were handing out copies of his wanted poster. “I think it would be better to leave.”

“Yeah,” said Dipper. “These guys are, uh, kinda nuttier than I would have thought…”

“They most certainly are,” said Ford, “but there’s something else we must discuss.”

Some of then tension eased in Ford’s shoulders when they finally got out of the crowd. Turning to Stan and the children, he held out his hand, showing them the beeping device fastened around his wrist. “The signal got stronger while we were on stage.”

“Oh, man,” said Stan. “So, there’s a dimensional anomaly or whatever close by? Where is it?”

Ford glanced behind, toward the building towering above the city.

Toward the so-called Temple of the Eye of Dawn.

“Oh _shit_.” Stan gulped down. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I would wager that what we’re looking for is at the top of that tower,” Ford added.

“How are we supposed to get up there?” Dipper asked. “I mean, these guys are _weird_. They’re obviously up to no good!”

“What’s up with them saying you’re a buddy of theirs or something?” Mabel added. “Did you, like, save those guys from certain death and they now worship you?”

“No!” Ford said. “I don’t know who they are and what they want!” He had run into his fair share of cults in his years, but most of the time, they had wanted to kill him, not worship the ground under his feet!

“Well, we kinda know what they want,” said Stan. “They want _you_ , Sixer. For some nefarious scheme, I guess.”

“That doesn’t help—”

“I think it does, actually,” Dipper said, interrupting Ford. “I know what I’m about to say sounds crazy, but hear me out, guys…” His grimace deepened. “Oh boy. Grunkle Ford, sorry for what I’m about to say, but…”

His sister began to grin. Apparently, she had caught on to her brother’s plan, whatever it was.

“What if you… pretend to get captured?” Dipper said. “By me and Mabel? Then we’d get Stan to bring us to the temple. That would get us inside, right?”

Ford stared at his nephew. He was aware that he must have looked rather stupid with his mouth just hanging open, but his brain was too sluggish to come up with a more appropriate reaction.

“Trust me,” said Dipper. “We’ve done stupider things.”

“Did you,” Ford said, finally finding his voice, “did you just steal that idea from _Star Wars_ of all things?!”

“Who cares where it comes from?” Stan rubbed his hands together in glee. “Do you think it’ll be enough to… what did that guy say, earn me my colours or something? At least it’ll net me a promotion!”

Ford glared at him. Of course, considering that he was currently wearing a mask, Stan stayed wholly unaware of his brother’s murderous gaze.

“Alright,” Ford said. “Given that we’re pressed for time, we don’t have much of a choice anyway.”

“How long do you think we have until the dimensional tear open again?” Dipper said quietly.

“From my calculations, probably only four days,” Ford answered him. “Let’s make every second count.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Make way, make way!” Stan called out. “Dangerous criminal coming through!”

Just as before, the temple plaza was packed with people. At the sight of Stan in his grey robes, the crowd parted, gasping and whispering among themselves. Ford mustered his best glare—which wasn’t that hard considering how annoying it was, to have all those people staring and pointing at him like he was some curious specimen on display.

The kids—again wearing their ludicrous ‘disguises’—had tied his hands with some cloth they’d ripped from a spare uniform. They followed closely after their uncles, faking a smug sense of satisfaction. Of course, the twins’ chutzpah had nothing on _Stan’s_ , who was so giddy he was having trouble keeping character.

The crowd’s scrutiny grew more intense—and more _irritating_ —the closer they got to the temple. Up this close, its height was even more daunting. Something pressed down Ford’s chest at the sight of the great pyramid—a real, almost tangible sense of dread.

One terrible possibility kept rearing its ugly head from some corner of Ford’s mind. Gnashing his teeth, he shooed it away. No, it was better not to waste precious energy on pointless conjectures. Ford had already let too much of his life be dictated by fear.

Two sets of stairs separated them from the great arched entrance of the temple. By the time they had climbed them all, Stan was puffing and cursing the guy who had designed the place. The two grey-robed people standing guard glanced at him. Even with their faces hidden by masks, the depth of their contempt was plain to see.

Stan pushed his ‘captive’ forward. Again, Ford tried his best to play the part of the defiant and hardened criminal. The guards nearly dropped their spears from shock, one even letting out a gasp.

“I know, I know,” Stan said, smug. “Y’all wonderin’ who’s the handsome devil who managed to snag the guy you’re all looking for, huh? Well— ”

Ford kicked at his brother, his annoyance only half feigned. “Unshackle me, foul fiend!” he exclaimed. “You won’t get away with this!”

Stan stared at him dumbly, while Mabel hid her mouth, probably to stifle a chuckle.

The guard on the left quickly regained her composure, and she pointed at the twins. “Wait, why have you brought these children as well?” she asked Stan.

“We’re the ones who caught him, actually,” Mabel said. “We found him in our backyard. He was rifling through the vegetables in our mom’s garden pretty fast and—”

“Right,” Stan interrupted her. “Uh, you gonna let us in or what? Got a prophesied hero who needs to save the world, y’know.”

“O-Of course,” the guard on the right said, motioning for them to enter.

“Thanks,” Stan said, shoving Ford through the opening.

Dipper and Mabel went to follow, only to be stopped by the one on the left. “That’s as far as you two can go,” she said.

“Hey!” said Mabel. “We’re the ones who found him, you know!”

“Yeah!” her brother added. “We’re supposed to have a reward, right?”

The two guards exchanged a look. “Alright, alright,” the one to the left said. “Get in before I change my mind.”

“Thank you.” Mabel offered her a little bow. When the woman’s back was turned, however, she stuck out her tongue at her.

Inside, they found a large, circular hall, everything made of pale stone. Hanging on the walls were six banners of different colours, all depicting the circular symbol they’d seen before. A stairway twisted around a darker pillar in the middle; even if he’d craned his neck, Ford couldn’t see the top of it. Several people in robes of different colours scuttled about, too caught up in their duties to pay them any mind. Ford pointedly noted that there weren’t any worshipper or supplicant at any of the six altars placed under the banners.

Of course, none of these details caught Stan’s eyes.

“Holy… holy _shit_ …” he said. “Is that real _gold?!_ ”

On each altar there was a golden statue, again depicting a circle divided by a vertical line. The Eye of Dawn, most probably. A large bowl had been put in front of each statue. Priests and priestesses clad in a wide variety of colours filled those basins with objects made of gold—trinkets, ornaments, even what seemed to be a _hairbrush_.

Stan’s excitement was almost palpable. “Heheh! How ‘bout we try to bring one of those statues home… as a souvenir, I mean?”

“I thought my wanted poster was all the souvenir you needed?” Ford said dryly.

“Could be a late birthday present,” Stan said. “From me to me an’ all that. What’s the use of wearing a stupidly poofy robe if I can’t use it to hide stuff I steal?”

“Stanley, _please_.”

“Awright, awright. So, uh, anything’s pinged on your radar thingie?”

Ford inspected his watch while Stan and the children looked at him expectantly.

“It’s as I feared,” he said. “The signal’s coming from above us.”

“From the top of the tower?” said Dipper. “Bummer. Then again, I’ve been wondering… if the dimensional tear is up there, why did we show up outside of the city? I just don’t get it.”

“Neither do I,” Ford replied.

“Time to find out the truth of the matter, huh?” said Stan. He gestured at a counter in front of them. A blue-skinned woman was sitting behind it, looking bored. “Lemme talk to the receptionist. She’s a lady, and ladies love me, right?”

Ford’s reply was simple and categorical, “ _No_.”

“Grunkle Stan, Susan at the diner isn’t representative of all women,” Dipper added.

“Why d’you break up with her, anyway?” asked Mabel. “We never got the full story—”

“Welp!” Stan said. “Let’s go! Time’s a wastin’, people!”

He walked—no, _strutted_ would have been a better word—toward the counter. The blue-robed lady had five eyes and a perfectly coiffed beehive hairdo. She pinched her mouth at the sight of Stan.

“ _Heeey_ ,” Stan said, and Ford could almost picture him wiggling his eyebrows. “Didja miss me? Admit it, you missed me.”

Her five-eyed gaze was stony. “No. I don’t know which of you idiots you even are.”

Stan slapped Ford’s back. “I’m the one idiot who actually managed what everyone couldn’t do!” His voice was dry as sandpaper as he added, “Does that answer your question?”

By now, a small crowd was starting to form around them. Ford could hear them whispering.

All five of her eyes grew wide. “Is… is that…?”

“The hero promised by prophecy? The savior who will bring about dawn?” Stan gave a deliberate, dramatic pause before adding, “ _The man who will change the world?_ ”

Ford felt a disquieting chill. _Someone else_ has said those words about him once…

“Oh _my!_ ” she said. “Lord Tappaz will be so pleased!”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely. Lord Tappaz. _Yep_.” Stan shuffled for a bit. “You know me, I live to make ‘im happy.”

“As do I!” Her sudden liveliness stood in dire contrast to her previous dour demeanour. “As do all of us!”

Ford startled, finally noticing just how many of these nutcases in robes were now surrounding them. Eager grins were plastered on their faces, their whispers growing into excited chatter. Stan edged closer to Dipper and Mabel, and the twins exchanged a worried glance.

The blue-robed woman held out a hand toward Ford. “Well, dear sir, let us escort you to Lord Tappaz. He is most _eager_ to make your acquaintance!” She snapped her fingers, and two men in orange robes approached, grabbing Ford by the arms.

“Wait a damn minute—” Stan said.

Her smile grew cooler when she looked at Stan. “Your job is done, soldier. Scoot along, now, scoot along!”

“Hey!” said Mabel. “Why can’t we come with him? Um, I mean, we really want to meet this Tappaz guy too, you know!”

“Oh dearie me!” The woman actually laughed. “He’s a busy man! You should be thankful that he already takes the time to talk to the uninitiated every week, you know!”

 _Lemon Guy_ , Ford thought, not even keeping the scowl from his face. It _had_ to be him.

“C’mon!” Stan said. “You can’t bring him there without me!”

“And why is that?” the woman said. “We’ll handle it from there. Go do… well, whatever is it you lot do in your spare time.”

Before Stan or the children could place another word, the orange-robed men dragged Ford into the twisting stairwell. As he had expected, it led into the tower he’d seen from the outside. To his surprise, they did not climb to the top. Instead, the guards brought him to a small room—or an office, more precisely. Its tiny size was made worse by how _cluttered_ it was. Gaudy statues and ornaments littered the place—hell, the walls were painted _gold_. Even Stan would have called it tacky.

Waiting for them inside was a man wearing yellow robes with stupidly pointy shoulder pads.

“My, could it be?” Lemon Guy stood up from his desk, gliding over to Ford. “The man of the hour, in the flesh! What a sight for sore eyes!” Glancing at the rags binding Ford’s wrists, he added, “Goodness me, you’ve been treated like a prisoner, haven’t you?”

“Isn’t that what I am?” Ford said.

“Oh, no! You’re our… _esteemed guest_.” Lemon Guy took an affected pose as he added, “Please, call me Tappaz. I am the head priest of the Yellow Clergy.” As Ford stared blankly, he added, “That’s the upper echelon of the faith of the Eye of Dawn.”

“So you’re the leader of those lunatics?”

Tappaz’s grin twitched a little. “Of course not. And I’m hurt that you think so little of us! You’re among friends here.” He motioned over to one of the orange-robed guards. “Remove his restraints, please. And send for the tailor.”

“The _what?_ ” Ford said, rubbing sore wrists. “What do you need a tailor for?”

“Oh, _you_. You’re not going to bring about change upon the world wearing those… old things.” Tappaz flicked a finger at Ford’s collar, and the latter tensed, scowl deepening. “That dreadful sweater is much too bland for our purposes, for one.”

“My twin bought it for me,” Ford spat. “And _don’t touch me_.”

Tappaz frowned. “Twin? What’s that?”

Ford remained silent. He was starting to regret leaving his weapons in the care of Stan and the children.

“Oh, well,” Tappaz said, rolling all five of his eyes. “That’s not important.”

Soon, three scurrying figures in pale blue were brought into the room. Their heads were bent as they presented Ford with clothes and, to his horror and bafflement, what seemed to be a collar and a pair of bracers, all made of gold. The ensemble was completed by a hat that looked quite like a graduation cap, except the top portion was triangular instead of shaped like a square.

Ford just stared at the rainbow abomination in his hands. It was a multicoloured tunic, one that probably came at the knees at the bare most. “I’m not wearing _that_ ,” he said.

That bastard Tappaz just kept grinning. “And why not? We tend to favour colourful fashion. It brings about more… _joy_ into the world, don’t you think?” With feigned sadness, he added, “And you wouldn’t want to make poor Marines cry, would you?”

As on cue, the one who had given Ford the tunic sniffed, crocodile tears filling her blue eyes.

“We’ve planned your coming for so long!” Tappaz said. “She was looking forward to being the one to design the outfit of our prophesised savior, you know.”

“Alright,” Ford snapped. “I’ll wear it. Just keep in mind that I’m putting my own clothes back on as soon as I’m finished with… whatever idiot thing you want me to do.”

“Why, thank you for your cooperation.”

For a moment, Tappaz simply stood and stared at Ford, stupid grin still plastered on his face. The guards and servants seemed similarly rooted to their spots.

Ford threw them a revolted look. “The least you owe me,” he said through grit teeth, “is a bit of privacy, I think.”

Tappaz gestured with his chin at the wooden screen behind his desk. “Please take the time you need,” he said. “Afterward, I’ll… _introduce_ you to my superior.”

Ford clenched his jaw tighter. Forcing him to put on those stupid clothes was certainly a good way to make sure he hadn’t smuggled any weapon. “At least make your goons wait outside.”

“Of course, of course.” With a wave of the hand, Tappaz ordered the guards and servants to leave the room.

Ford slipped into the multicoloured atrocity behind the screen, inwardly cursing all the while. He pointedly chose to _not_ put on the bracers and collar, and it took all of his willpower to keep himself from flinging them across the room.

With a sigh, he glanced at his watch. The signal had grown more intense, indicating that he was indeed growing closer to a dimensional anomaly. And yet he had no means of contacting Stan or the children. He had to find them, and _fast_.

Ford took one of the golden statues lying about the room, hiding it in his bundle of clothes. When he emerged from behind the screen, Tappaz eyed him critically.

“Well,” he said. “I guess that’ll do. Say, why aren’t you wearing the hat?”

In response, Ford just took a swing at him with the statue.

The man went down like a stone, and Ford rushed forward, knocking another statue in the process. He managed to take one of the guardsmen by surprise, kicking him in the torso. The other whirled toward him, readying his staff. Before the man could attack, however, a grey-robed figure rammed into him, screaming all the while.

“Great Uncle Ford!” a familiar voice shouted. “There you are!”

Two small figures were rushing toward up the stairs. “Kids!” Ford said. “How did you get past the guards?”

Mabel simply pointed next to him. Stan was grappling with the guard. With a roar, he grabbed the guy by the front of his robes, twisting on his feet and sending him flying. The guy tumbled down the stairs. His screams grew dimmer as he rolled out of their sight. Ford was briefly seized with the urge to go back into Tappaz’s office and throw him down the stairs as well.

“He’ll be fine,” Mabel said, in a strangely forced tone. She glanced at the guy groaning at Ford’s feet. “He’s gonna be fine too.”

“’Course they’ll be fine, pumpkin,” Stan said, panting. He removed his mask to breathe better. “Oh, I _hate_ the guy who came up with the idea to put so many stairs…” After a slight pause, he added, squinting his eyes at Ford, “And how in the hell can you kick so high? We’re the same age, dammit…”

“As the youth of today would say,” Ford noted dryly, “I haven’t skipped ‘leg day’.”

“Oh my gosh, Great Uncle Ford, what are you _wearing?_ ” Dipper said.

Everyone turned to look at Ford, to his great horror. Stan in particular _goggled_ at him. Ford didn’t how it was possible for a sixty-year-old man to look so much like his sixteen-year-old self. It helped than Stan was grinning like a _madman_.

Ford glared at his brother. “ _Shut up_.”

Stan let out a bark of manic laughter. “But I didn’t say anything!”

“Well, I think it suits him!” Mabel said brightly. “The colours are so pretty! But that skirt-and-boots combo is _not_ a good look. They could have given you a nice pair of sandals, at least—”

“Mabel, _please_ ,” Ford said.

“Aw, poor baby,” she said. For a disturbing moment, she looked quite like a miniature version of her uncle Stan.

“Why did you take the time to put it on if you going to make a run for it?” Stan asked.

Ford blinked. “The possibility… just hasn’t crossed my mind.”

“Oh boy. You really are the dumbest genius I’ve met.”

“Anyway,” Ford said gruffly, putting back his sweater over the tunic, “how did you find me?”

“Dipper remembered that we could track you,” said Stan. He patted the boy’s head in an affectionate way. “Kid’s hella smart, as always.”

“Well, we can’t always barge in without thinking ahead,” Dipper muttered. “Sometimes it’s good to plan for contingencies…”

“That’s why we got you!” his sister said, poking his cheek.

Shouts began to erupt from downstairs. Ford exchanged a look with the others, and they all scrambled up the stairs.

“Oh, I’d almost forgotten!” Mabel said suddenly. She gave Ford his laser gun and glasses. “You can go pew-pew on the bad guys as much as you want now!”

“Thank you, my dear,” said Ford. “To tell the truth, I’d rather not shoot anyone…”

“Good thing you’ve got me, huh?” Stan said. “Punching’s not out of the question, yeah?”

Ford never had the time to answer him; the four of them had finally reached the last floor of the tower.

Only to come to a sudden stop.

The top floor had no walls, the arched ceiling being supported by tall columns. In the middle portion of the room, there was an elevated platform, accessible through a series of stairs. On the platform loomed a large metallic structure.

An inverted triangle with a hollowed centre, gleaming a sinister gold.

The entire world seemed to crawl to a stop as Ford stared at the portal. Stan and the children were shouting, but his mind was so numb that he barely registered what they were saying. Other sounds of a distant past—of _another life_ —instead filled his ears.

_You’re Stanford Pines, the man who will change the world!_

_One brilliant mind every century—and you’re the lucky guy!_

_See? I did say you’d join the likes of Tesla and Einstein!_

_…with just a little help from a **f r I e n d**._

**_WHY, YOU ONLY HAVE TO LET ME INTO YOUR HEAD, STANFORD._ **

“No,” the word escaped Ford’s mouth. He clamped his hands over his ears. “No, no, _no_ …”

**_ENJOYING THE MYSTERY BRUISES, SIXER?_ **

****

**_OH, YOU WANT TO STOP ME? IT’D BE FUN TO SEE YOU TRY, CUTE EVEN!_ **

****

**_SAY, WHY IS THERE BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS? WELL, I’M NOT TELLING!_ **

****

**_YOU THINK YOU’RE SPECIAL? WHY, THAT’S THE FUNNIEST JOKE OF ALL!_ **

****

**_I CHOSE YOU BECAUSE YOU’RE G U L L I B L E !_ **

****

Ford should have been able to tear his eyes away from that portal, should have been able to gather his wits and get his family to safety. He should have been able to drown the screams and the laughter blaring in his ears.

It was supposed to be over. He was supposed to be _home_ , playing games with the kids, enjoying hikes in the woods, helping Fiddleford with his projects, going fishing with his brother. It was supposed to be _over_.

Ford was supposed to be _free_.

“…Stanford?” a voice seemed to come from far away. “Everything’s fine, buddy, take a deep breath, it’s _alright_ …”

Someone was rubbing Ford’s back. Another person was holding his hand. Ford tensed, instincts flaring up. Still, he forced himself to breath. Stanley’s gaze was surprisingly soft, and full of understanding. Mabel just squeezed his hand tighter.

“I…” Ford croaked. He took another breath, before clearing his throat. “I’m sorry. We’re strapped for time and yet…” He was still shaking, _dammit_.

“It’s okay, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel said. “We’re here, we’re all together, see?”

“It happens to me all the time,” Dipper said, somewhat sheepishly. “Don’t worry about it…”

“See? Everything’s fine, we’re all fine.” Stan gave him another reassuring pat. After a while, he added, “You think you can focus enough to help us turn that thing on? So it can send us home?”

“I think I can,” Ford said. “Thank… thank you, everyone…”

“Hey, no problem. Can’t say seein’ that thing makes me feel any better. Kinda makes me wanna puke, actually.”

“Oh,” was all Ford could say. If he’d been a better brother, he could have comforted Stan as well, but right now his brain felt as consistent as scrambled eggs.

“Alright. You and the kids work on that while I take care of—”

Before Stan could finish, several figures irrupted from downstairs. Tappaz was at the forefront, face drenched in sweat and blood. A couple of yellow and grey-robed guards hovered nearby, spears at the ready.

“ _You!_ ” Tappaz screamed. “Do you have any idea what any of us would give to be in your position?! I kept telling the others that we had to bring you by force, but _nooo!_ We _had_ to earn your cooperation, _had_ to treat you like a precious asset instead of the worthless trash you really are! Oh, I’ll fix that mistake right now and claim what’s rightfully—”

“ _Move_ ,” said a woman’s voice, low and raspy with disuse.

A new figure pushed Tappaz aside. Even hunched over, the green-skinned woman was a great deal taller than him. A thick mane of white-green hair was draped over her shoulders and back. Her body was hidden under a cloak, while her face was covered by a mask, one that seemed to be fashioned out of white tree bark. There was a single triangular hole in the mask, showing the woman’s right eye.

Ford met the newcomer’s gaze, and his breath hitched in his throat. A single eye, framed by a triangle. It didn’t mean anything, it _couldn’t_. It was just Ford’s paranoia acting up. And _yet_ …

“Lady Malakh!” Tappaz exclaimed, his yellow skin growing a shade paler. “I didn’t think you’d—”

She ignored him and lumbered toward Ford, her staff dragging on the ground.

“Not another step!” Ford shouted, gun raised. “I won’t hesitate to—”

He never had time to finish; half a heartbeat later, and she was rushing forward with supernatural speed. He pulled the trigger, and a blue projectile burst from the barrel of his gun. There was an explosion of light, accompanying by a loud, crackling sound. In front of her, something shimmered, and the energy scattered in a web of blue lightning.

 _A forcefield?_ Ford thought with a jolt of panic. Dimly, he heard Dipper crying out in alarm. She was swinging her staff toward him, and it was coming _fast_.

The weapon caught Ford in the ribcage, and there was a sickening crunch. The blow sent him _flying_. He crashed against one column, only halfway aware of the way the children were _screaming_.

Ford stumbled forward, raising his arms in a half-hearted to defend himself. The green blur surged in front of him. Ford grit his teeth and stifled a scream of agony as the staff struck his forearm.

Something _snapped_ , and Ford staggered on his feet, dizzy with the pain. The green figure towered above him, straightening her spine and finally showing the full extent of her height. She grabbed at his collar, easily lifting him with a skeletally-thin arm. Ford’s feet dangled above the ground. Her single eye shone with an intensity he had rarely seen; the woman in front of him was not some self-serving lackey, but a _believer_.

“ _STANFORD!_ ” someone shouted in the distance.

Stan’s voice seemed to have come from halfway across the world. Ford mustered all of his strength to look at him; his brother’s face was pale, stricken with horror.

Malakh tensed, whipping back her head to stare at Stan. It was hard to tell, but Ford was sure he’d seen her eye widening through the single hole on her mask. “Another… _vessel?_ ” she rasped.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ford saw Mabel throwing something their way.

“Smoke bombs!” she cried.

Her aim was true, and Ford closed his eyes as it hit Malakh’s face. She screeched, dropping him to the ground.

That moment of hesitation was her undoing. “ _Get away from him, you creep!_ ” Stan hollered, rushing toward her. With a very satisfying crunch, his fist collided with the wooden mask. Malakh stumbled back, staff falling from her hands as she reached for her face.

“I got you, Stanford,” Stan said, hoisting his brother up and dragging him away from her. “I got you, everything’s fine…”

Through eyes blurred by pain, Ford spied a small figure scooping Malakh’s staff from where she had dropped it. A moment later, and Dipper was running toward them. “Great Uncle Ford! Are you— _ah!_ ”

He’d been stopped in his tracks by Tappaz, who had managed to grab the other end of the staff. Despite Dipper’s effort, the yellow-robed priest managed to wrestle the weapon from the boy’s hands. Dipper staggered toward his uncles and sister, while Tappaz held it above his head, shouting, “I’ve got it, Lady Malakh! I’ve got your staff!”

He pointed it toward Ford, a predatory grin breaking on his face. Energy gathered at the tip of the staff as he began to draw a glowing sigil in the air.

“Finally, I’ll put you in your place, worm!” Tappaz exclaimed. “Why should an outsider be given an honour that should be ours? That should be _mine?_ Our master will be so pleased that I’ve—wait, why is there _two_ of you?!”

And then several things happened all at once.

As Tappaz spoke, Ford raised his gun, struggling to keep his aim true. In a sluggish motion, he pulled the trigger, and a flare burst out of the barrel. With a startled yep, Tappaz brought down the staff, releasing a wave of energy so potent the air began to crackle and pop.

There was a blinding explosion, and Ford was swept off his feet. Through eyes blurry with pain, he spied a purple, starry sky above him. He managed to summon enough awareness to understand that the blast had been strong enough to send him out the window. It took him a bit more effort to realize he wasn’t the only one who had been projected outside. The shock of this revelation was strong enough to dispel the fog from his mind.

Stanford Pines was plummeting to his death, and _his family was falling alongside him._

Ford struggled to reach them, his fingers barely touching the fabric of Stan’s sleeve. Mabel and Dipper were trying—and _failing_ —to grab each other as well, their faces struck in the same expression of panic. The base of the pyramid was approaching fast. A final scream was wrenched out of Ford’s throat, and he squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to see the violent end of those he loved most in the world.

His body came to a lurching stop.

Slowly, an inexplicable force set him on the ground. Two young faces peered at him; a boy and a teenage girl, their skin a matching shade of blue. More figures stood behind them, their features a blur to Ford’s dimming eyesight. Before he could utter a word, everything gave way to oblivion.


	8. Chapter 8

_\- Ten years ago -_

* * *

Ford woke up with a shaved head—and a searing migraine.

The room was bathed in a soft purple glow, but to his sensitive eyes it felt about as comforting as a flashing strobe light. His bed was covered with so many silk cushions that he could almost drown in them. And the smell of incense caught in his nose, making him want to sneeze.

This assault on his senses came to an end when Ford suddenly remembered where he was… and _why_. The metal plate. The Oracle. The promise to have his mind shielded from Bill Cipher. Breath catching in his throat, Ford raised a hand to knock on his head. He was rewarded by a sharp burst of pain… and an unmistakable metallic clang.

Ford sat up, the fog gone from his mind. Was it done then? Was he finally free of Bill Cipher?

There was a sudden yelp from his left, and Ford startled. He hadn’t even noticed someone else was in the room with him.

One of Jheselbraum’s apprentices was looking at him, somewhat fretfully. He had met several of them so far, but they had never spoken a word to him. She was the youngest of the lot he’d seen so far, with green skin and pale, messy hair. The thing that struck him, however, was her eyes. A pair of soft forest green eyes stared back at him, round with shock. Not five, not four, not even three eyes, like the rest of her brethren. Only two.

She said something that Ford could obviously not understand, nearly dropping the blankets she was carrying.

“I’m sorry,” Ford said, before realizing she had no means of understanding him. “I mean, can you get Jheselbraum? Please?”

She nodded, before scampering out of the room. Ford leaned back into the bed with a sigh. Not long after, the Oracle was making her way inside, shadowed by the young woman.

“Good morning, Stanford,” said Jheselbraum. “How are you feeling?”

Ford touched his head. It was strange to feel only the barest of stubble under his fingertips. “Good, actually. I’m surprised I’m not feeling worse, considering I’ve just had a metal plate fastened directly against my skull…”

“I had my best healers on your case,” Jheselbraum answered. “Your speedy recovery was our priority.”

 _Because I’m the one destined to defeat Bill Cipher…?_ Ford could not help but think. He did not say it out loud, of course. “Thank you,” he offered instead.

Jheselbraum inclined her head, wordlessly instructing her acolyte to put the tray beside Ford. A soothing aroma was coming out of a steaming mug. Next to it was a bowl filled with something resembling soup—well, _purple_ soup. Despite the odd colour, it smelled delicious.

“Eat up,” said the Oracle. “You need to gather all of your strength before continuing your journey.”

Ford sipped from the mug, looking at her through the fog forming on his glasses. “Continue my journey,” he said evenly. “Yes, of course.”

He felt a twinge of disappointment—which was surprising and more than a little shameful. He’d been here for a short time, no more than a few days, really, and yet…

“Don’t look so glum,” Jheselbraum said. “We’ll be sure to celebrate before you leave.”

“Celebrate? Whatever for?” Ford swallowed nervously, finally steeling his nerves enough to ask, “Is it because my mind is finally safe from Bill Cipher?”

The young acolyte opened her mouth in shock, before uttering a series of words in their melodious language. Jheselbraum’s reply sounded like an attempt to appease the girl; still, the Oracle’s smile was belied by the slight crease on her brow.

“What did she say?” Ford asked.

“All the visions that come to me are recorded by my acolytes,” Jheselbraum said. “She only asked if you had something to do with a certain prophecy.”

“I see,” Ford said. “Just so you know, I don’t put a lot of stock in that sort of thing. I doubt I’m some prophesized hero.”

Because, yes, Ford was certain he would defeat Bill Cipher one day—but not because destiny ordained it. He would pull it off by relying on his wits—and, of course, on the stubbornness that came with being a Pines. Ford did not dare—did not _want_ —to trust in anything else.

“Of course.” Jheselbraum’s smile had an enigmatic quality to it. “We’ll leave you to your lunch. Call us if you need anything.”

In a soft flutter of robes, she was gone from the room. Her acolyte, however, lingered, wide green eyes still fixed on Ford. He endured her scrutiny for a moment, before letting out a noise of irritation.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” he snapped.

She couldn’t understand his words, but she _did_ understand his intent very clearly. With a squeal, she scurried off, leaving Ford alone with his soup and tea.

* * *

_– Unknown location, 2013 –_

* * *

Ford weaved in and out of consciousness.

It was difficult to keep track of time in his current state. Voices spoke in low tones around him, while blurry forms scurried about him. Was he in bed? No, he realized with a wince, he was lying on a surface that was about as comfortable as a slab of concrete. The ache in his back attested to that.

A number of people took turns sitting at his side. There was a blue-skinned youth with glowing hands. More familiar figures also came to visit Ford. He sometimes spied a boy scribbling something in a book or a girl diligently working with her knitting needles. However, the one who had kept the most steadfast vigil was an older man with a bowed head and clasped hands. He seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. In his brief moments of lucidity, all Ford wished for was to tell him to get some much-needed rest.

Eventually, consciousness began to ebb in, and more pain started to register. Ford’s right arm refused to move, and he realized belatedly that it was stuck in a cast. His ribs hurt as if someone had recently tap danced on his torso.

His awakening caused more agitation in the room. Ford struggled to have a better grasp of his surroundings. The place was dimly lit by a lantern next to his cot. The walls were made of rocks; in fact, the place seemed to have been hollowed out of a cavern.

It was hard making sense of what the two figures next to him were saying. He heard the occasional whirring and fizzing sounds, suggesting that his translator was having trouble keeping up with their mumbling.

Ford tried to sit up, only to immediately regret that decision. With a hiss, he lay back. The two strangers began to speak faster, and the taller of the two left the room.

“Where… where am I?” Ford managed.

A blurry blue figure came nearer. “H-Hello, sir. Here, have s-something to drink. My s-sister went to fetch some food.”

Ford accepted the mug, but did not drink from it. “Who are you?”

The figure seemed to hesitate. Before he could answer, however, three other people entered the room. Even without his glasses, Ford recognized them immediately.

“ _Grunkle Ford!_ ” A whirlwind of pastel was rushing toward him, only to be stopped by the tallest of the three figures.

“Easy there, pumpkin,” said Stan. “No rib crushin’ hugs, remember? He’s still recovering.”

“Here are your glasses, Great Uncle Ford,” Dipper said, putting them over his eyes. “Thankfully, they didn’t break when we fell.”

Ford nearly dropped his mug. “We were falling!” he exclaimed. “Oh my god, what happened? Where are we? How did we survive?!”

“Easy there,” said Stan. “We’re safe, we’re all in one piece, see? Maybe we should let the kid explain everythin’. It’ll be quicker, anyway.”

He motioned to the figure hovering by the door, and the blue-skinned boy came forward with unsure, halting steps. He looked about the twins’ age, with dark, messy curls. It took Ford some time to notice he had only two eyes. Ford frowned, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu.

“Um, m-my name’s Kyan. My sister Zuri and I, well, we saved you while you were falling…”

“You did?” Ford said. “How, exactly?”

“O-Oh…” Kyan scratched the back of his head. “By using a levitation spell. I treated your wounds the best I could, too. I-I’m not very good at magic, but—”

“Ugh, stop the false modesty, will you?” a new voice said from the doorway. “I’m getting second-hand embarrassment from all that s-stuttering too.”

Two figures came inside. A three-eyed teenage girl with the same blue skin as Kyan put down a bowl filled with greyish slop next to Ford’s cot. The other newcomer was a tall, broad-shouldered woman with orange skin and close-cropped hair. She approached Ford, standing straight and stiff as a drill sergeant.

“So, you’re awake?” the orange-skinned woman said, all five of her eyes narrowing. “Good.”

Ford squinted back, still finding it hard to keep focus. “How… how long was I out?”

“Almost four days. I had Kyan keep you under sedation to make sure you wouldn’t worsen your injuries.”

Ford blinked, gingerly touching his chin; rather than stubble, he felt the coarse beginning of a beard under his fingertips.

“You still shouldn’t move, s-sir,” Kyan said. “I mean, the healing spells helped, but you’re in a p-pretty bad shape.”

“What the kid said,” the orange-skinned woman added. “Call me Yaspa. I’m the leader of—”

“A _friggin’_ rebellion!” Mabel completed, jumping up and down. “Those guys lead the fight against the Eye of Dawn! Isn’t that _awesome?_ ”

One of Yaspa’s eyes twitched, but she did not comment Mabel’s interruption. Instead, she said, “We’ve been trying to come in contact with you since your arrival. You’re lucky that Kyan and Zuri were able to find you in time.”

“Huh,” said Ford. He drank from his mug, before taking a spoonful of that grey slosh. It tasted disgusting as it looked, but he was _famished_. “You knew about us? How?”

With her chin, Yaspa motioned at the teenage girl. “We’ve enrolled Zuri in the Eye of Dawn youth corps. She’s been providing intel for two years now.”

“A few weeks back, I noticed they were planning something,” Zuri continued. “Something _big_. I figured it had something to do with that weird machine at the top of the temple, so I snooped around.” She took out a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and handed it over to Ford. It was his wanted poster. “They must hate you pretty bad. The moment that portal thingie went on, they used it to bring you over to our dimension.”

“Well, there must have been a malfunction,” Ford said. “We showed up miles away from the temple.”

Zuri snorted. “Malfunction, my ass. I entered the wrong coordinates so we could pick you up out of town.”

“Oh,” Ford said, exchanging a look with Stan. The latter just shrugged. “So you were the ones on that hovercraft back then?”

“You think we can afford one of these things? _Hah!_ ” Zuri rolled her eyes when Yaspa glared at her. “What? You know it’s true, boss.”

“This isn’t important,” Yaspa said. “Right now, you need to tell us _who_ you are exactly and why the Eye are after you.”

“We’re in Dimension 52, aren’t we?” Ford blurted out. “Or an offshoot thereof.”

“Wait, what?” said Stan. “You knew where we were this whole time?”

“I didn’t,” Ford replied. “I mean… it was a hypothesis of mine, but I couldn’t exactly verify my theory.”

“We are in Mictlan, yes,” the woman called Yaspa said. “Or, as you dimensional travellers call it, Dimension 52. I guess our suspicion was right, then. You really are the one that Lady Jheselbraum told us about. Stanford Pines, the man she helped ten years ago.”

Ford could nearly see the gears working in Dipper’s head. “Dimension 52? And Lady Jheselbraum? D’you mean the Oracle?”

“I’m starting to believe you know the content of my journals by heart,” Ford said with a chuckle.

Dipper cleared his throat, before muttering, “More or less. I did, uh, spend an entire summer obsessing over them, you know.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Stan said. “Start at the beginning so me an’ Mabel can understand what’s goin’ on, will ya?”

Ford looked at Yaspa and the rest of her collaborators. “You go first,” he told her. “How do you know Jheselbraum?”

“ _Everyone_ in Mictlan knows her,” Yaspa said. “She’s the Oracle, the only one capable of speaking directly to the Lord of Twilight.”

“Huh,” said Stan. “First, these Dawn guys, now some Twilight dude. I’m sensin’ a pattern here.”

Yaspa glared at him. “It’s not the same. Our faith has endured over _millenia_. The Eye of Dawn came into power barely ten years ago.” She looked at Ford, tilting her head. “Not long after you left the Oracle’s care when I think about it.”

“Where is she now?” Ford said, not liking the hint of suspicion in her voice. “Jheselbraum, I mean.”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to find out for nearly ten years,” Yaspa said, eyes still narrowed. “We’ve been fighting the Eye of Dawn ever since.”

“We’ve been losing against them ever since, you mean.”

“Zuri!” the boy called Kyan said. “Don’t say things like that!”

Yaspa sighed. “I hate to say it, but she’s right. Your… _child_ called us a rebellion, but most of us are civilians. Refugees, even. Almost all of our fighters have been killed or captured already.”

“Wait, no one else is fighting these jerks?” Mabel said. “ _Why?_ ”

“Who knows?” Yaspa said. “I don’t know how they convinced our people to turn their backs on the Lord of Twilight. I don’t even know if the one they call the Eye of Dawn actually exists!”

“Oh, he does,” Ford croaked. “At least, he _did_.”

All eyes turned to him. Dipper grimaced in horror, while Stan opened and closed his mouth in quick succession.

“Bill…” Dipper said. “You think it’s Bill Cipher, don’t you?”

“Bill Cipher? The master of the Nightmare Realm?” Yaspa passed a hand through her short hair, looking troubled. “I thought he was a myth.”

“Oh, he’s real alright,” Mabel said. “Also, super, _super_ dead. We killed him!”

“Or rather, Stan did,” Dipper said, pointing at his uncle. To Ford’s surprise, Stan evaded everyone’s gaze, rubbing the back of his neck in a self-conscious manner.

“How d’you pull that off?” Zuri said, sounding excited for once. “Killing a _god?_ ”

“He wasn’t a god, more like… a demon or something,” Dipper said. “His whole schtick was tricking people into making deals with him so he could possess your body.”

“He really wanted to get into Grunkle Ford’s mind for some reason,” Mabel said. “So Grunkle Stan pretended to be him to trap Bill inside _his_ mind!” She took a deep breath, before continuing, in a decidedly less enthusiastic voice, “Then, Grunkle Ford destroyed him with a memory gun-thingie...”

“That’s the whole of it?” asked Yaspa. “You killed the god worshipped by the Eye of Dawn, and now they want revenge?”

Ford nervously swallowed. “Probably,” he lied.

“Huh,” said Yaspa. “I almost expected something more, well, _convoluted_.”

“I’ve always figured that they were a bunch of fakes on a power trip,” Zuri added.

“Perhaps they are,” Ford said. “But Bill Cipher was _real_ , that much I can tell you.”

“It sure explains their fetish for gold,” Dipper said with a shudder.

“Did it really need any explanation?” said Stan. “I mean, it’s _gold_.”

Zuri gave him a wry grin. “Seems like you’d fit right it with those idiots.”

“Eh, maybe not with the bottom feeders. Giving away my hard-earned cash’s not my style.” Stan returned her smirk. “Wouldn’t mind being the one getting all these donations, though!”

Ford rolled his eyes. Sometimes Stan’s antics really grated on his nerves. “As Dipper said, it’s probably just a Bill thing. He had a thing for gold. It’s probably irrelevant, anyway.”

His words were followed by silence. Ford winced and brought a hand to his head, suddenly feeling woozy.

“Oh!” said Kyan. “I told you guys, s-swarming him was a bad idea! He needs more rest!”

“Fine,” said Yaspa. “We’ll continue this discussion once he’s more up to it. Everybody out. Give the man some space.”

“But—” Mabel began, sounding distressed.

“I’d rather have my brother and the children stay,” Ford said precipitately.

Yaspa shrugged. “Suit yourself. If you need anything, ask Kyan.”

“My room is the next one over,” the boy said. “Um, I’ll come back with more food l-later.”

“Thanks, Kyan!” Mabel said, giving him a radiant smile. Next to her, Dipper muttered something, rolling his eyes.

“Awright,” Stan said after Yaspa and her two young associates had left, “finish your soup and get some shut-eye, Sixer. Don’t worry ‘bout a thing, me and the kids we getcha covered.”

Ford struggled to sit up, ignoring Stan’s protests.

“Whoa, whoa! You heard that Kyan kid, you need to take it easy!”

“I’ve been awake for barely thirty minutes, and already you want me to go back to sleep?” Ford managed a smile. “Am I that much of a bore?”

Mabel scooted over next to him. “Only if you start talking about nerd stuff. Even then, it’s not so bad. You don’t ramble as much as Dipper.”

“Har _dee_ har,” Dipper said.

Ford’s smile faded. There was something he needed to tell them, but his resolve simply dissipated at the sight of their faces—or, more precisely, at the sight of _Stan’s_ face. His brother’s eyebrows furrowed, and Ford inwardly cursed. Sometimes, he wished he could have as good of a poker face as Stan.

“Something’s wrong, Poindexter?” Stan asked.

Vessel, that priestess had said. Vessel, and obviously she hadn’t meant Ford.

 _Vessel_. There was only one reason they would need Stan to serve such a purpose.

“I… no, everything’s fine,” Ford said. He ate his slop in deliberately loud slurps. “There’s just… a lot to think about.”

To Ford’s surprise, it was Dipper who called him out on his lie. “Great Uncle Ford, you told me you wouldn’t keep things from us anymore. You _promised_.”

“’s that so?” Stan said, eyes narrowing as well. “Yeah, Ford, what are you keeping from us?”

“It’s not important, Stanley. Don’t worry about it—”

“Oh, I see where this is going,” Stan said, standing up and pacing around the room. “You’re pullin’ that shit again, aren’tcha? Going around, not tellin’ me anything for my own good or somethin’.” He pointed angrily at Ford. “You saw how it all went last year! With demons pourin’ out of the sky and us nearly all dyin’! _Goddammit_ , Stanford, I thought we’d moved beyond that!”

“This isn’t the same thing,” Ford said weakly. “Stan, I swear—”

“How is it any different? ‘Cause this time you’re not going behind my back plottin’ stuff with the kids and puttin’ them in danger?”

“Grunkle Stan—” Dipper began. His sister was hugging her knees, tears filling her eyes.

“It’s always the same crap, isn’t it? You’re leavin’ me behind ‘cause you think I can’t handle it, ‘cause I’m the dumbass dragging you down, ‘cause I’m the one who screws up all the time—”

“ _Those people are targeting you because you defeated Bill Cipher!_ ” Ford shouted. “They’re after you because you had to step up and fix a mistake I’ve made!”

Stan’s anger seemed to evaporate. “Ford…”

Ford felt all the strength leaving his body. He leaned back, putting his face into his hands. He winced when two small arms wrapped around his side, before relaxing. In response, Mabel just put her head on his shoulder.

“Bill Cipher…” Stan said. “You mean the triangle guy, right? The one you guys said I killed?”

“You don’t remember defeating him?” Dipper said.

Stan frowned. “I remember… how it all started, and the survivors holing up at the Shack. I remember searchin’…” He inhaled sharply. “Well, searchin’ around and not findin’ the lot of you and thinkin’ you were all dead…”

“But we weren’t dead,” Mabel blubbered. “We’re all here, we’re all _fine_ , see?”

Stan managed a slight smile. “Yeah. I remember you finally showing up, and coming up with that stupid rescue plan. I remember that we had to stand together in a circle, holding hands or some shit, and that I—” His voice broke again. It took him a while to add, “And that’s it. Next thing I know, I’m waking up in that clearing, not knowing why I’m there—well, not knowing anything, really.”

“Thank God for the noble art of scrapbooking,” Ford said hoarsely, and Mabel gave his midsection a gentle squeeze.

“I only know what’s happened afterward ‘cause you told me. You all said I took Ford’s place and that I made a deal with—” Stan’s face paled, and he could say no more.

“You don’t need to continue if it makes you uncomfortable,” Ford said.

“ _Alright_ ,” Stan said in a slightly squeaky voice. “I don’t remember the specifics, but thinking ‘bout it… it gives me the creeps, y’know? Being possessed’s probably not a nice experience.”

“ _No_ ,” Dipper said quickly. “It really isn’t.”

Stan looked startled. “Wait, you too? W-When, h-how…” When Dipper did not answer, Stan sat down with a sigh. For a moment, he looked ten years older than he truly was. “Oh man. Look at us. That Cipher guy and his buddies really did a number on us.”

Ford’s hands tightened into fists, and a wave of anger submerged him. It was supposed to be _over_ , yet here they were, still dealing with the fallout of the mistakes he’d made thirty years ago.

“And now a bunch of crazy assholes worshipping him want to kill us, huh? Go figure. Couldn’t they have picked another hobby?”

“They don’t want to kill us, Stan,” Ford found himself saying. “That’s not their endgame.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Ford’s heart began to beat faster. There, he’d said it. A part of him screamed that he should keep his mouth shut, that Stan didn’t need to hear the horrible truth of what the Eye of Dawn was planning.

That Ford’s brother deserved the comfort of ignorance after forty years’ worth of misery and loneliness.

Stan looked lost, _guileless_ almost, in a way that tore at Ford’s heart. “So… why are they after me, then?”

“Great Uncle Ford,” Dipper said, “you don’t think that…”

“Vessel. That’s what that priestess said when she saw Stan.”

A thick silence hung in the air. Stan shook his head, saying, “Oh, no, _no_ … hell to the _no_.”

Ford met his brother’s terrified gaze and mustered all of his strength to say, “They want to use you, Stan… _to_ _bring Bill Cipher back_.”

* * *

Wendy stretched as she got out of the Shack, happy to feel the warmth of the setting sun on her face.

They had spent most of the week cooped up in the basement, helping McGucket repair the portal. According to the old kook, they were making good progress. One week or two, and they would be ready to test it. Frankly, it was almost disappointing that she couldn’t put that achievement on her resume. Searching for a job would be easier if potential employers knew Wendy was competent enough to help build a doomsday machine.

Soon, Soos was at her side, handing her a can of soda like the gentleman he was. “There you go, dude!”

“Thanks.” Wendy took a sip, savouring it. “It’s cheesy, but being in that basement all day really makes you appreciate the outdoors, huh? Never thought I’d be so glad to see trees.”

“I guess what you mean, dawg. Place’s creepy. In a cool-horror-movie kinda way, but still creepy.” For a moment, Soos looked sad. “Wonder how Mr. Pines did it. Thirty years is an awfully long time to be stuck in the dark all the time.”

“Huh,” Wendy said. She had never thought of it that way. No wonder Stan was so cranky all the time. She briefly wondered what she would have done if she’d been in his shoes. The idea of one of her little brothers being lost to in the multiverse made her sick to the stomach, and she quickly shooed it away.

A couple of figures were coming out of the woods: McGucket and the girls, followed by the three crab bots. With the old man’s blessing, Wendy, Candy and Grenda had named their mechanical partners-in-crime. One of the bots was now called Grendinator the Third: The Reckoning (they’d all agreed to shorten it to Recky). Candy had dubbed her helper 1D, after a boy band of all things. Wendy had done the sensible thing and named hers Crabby; Soos had told her it was the name of a Pokémon, which nearly made her want to change it back.

“ _We’ve got food!_ ” Grenda shouted, pointing at the crab bots. Several takeout boxes were piled on their backs.

“Susan was nice enough to give a discount,” Candy said. “She gave us a free pie too!”

“Nice job, people,” Wendy said. “What’s that written on the bill? A phone number?”

“Oh, yes,” said Candy. “She also wanted us to give her number to—” She made air quotes with her fingers, “—‘ _Stan’s cute brother_ ’.”

“So _embarrassing_ ,” Pacifica said, sticking out her tongue in disgust.

Wendy fought an urge to snort. “She’s got her game on. I respect that.”

“Aw, man, you guys are heroes!” said Soos. “Melody’s already set the table. We were just waiting for you dudes!”

“A’ight!” said McGucket. “Let’s go before the food gets cold, kiddos!”

Candy and Grenda cheered as they escorted the crab bots and their precious cargo inside the Shack. McGucket and Pacifica followed at a slower pace, the girl responding laconically to the old man’s ramblings.

“I guess we should get going too, huh?” Wendy told Soos. “Don’t want those fries to get all soggy and gross.”

Soos was about to answer when a saw a black-tinted vehicle came up the driveway. “Huh,” he said. “That’s weird. The Shack’s been closed for hours.”

Wendy froze. “Soos. That car… is that…?”

“What d’you— _oh_.” Soos’ face paled when people in black suits exited the vehicle. “Oh. Those dudes sure don’t look like tourists.”

The first to get out of the car was a short woman in her forties, hair cut in a sensible bob. Her colleague was tall and thin, and as much of a carrot top as Wendy. The red-haired guy removed his sunglasses, revealing quite the shiner on his right cheek. He glanced at Wendy’s bandaged hand, and his eyes narrowed.

“Oh, man,” Soos said.

Wendy nervously swallowed. “Oh man indeed.”


	9. Chapter 9

Soos looked at the dudes in the black suits, then at their car. He opened and closed his mouth in short succession. He knew that insignia.

He’d seen it when those secret agent guys had tried to arrest Stan last year.

“Hi, dudes!” Soos said, smiling as widely as he could. “Welcome to the Mystery Shack! How can I help you guys?”

The red-haired agent didn’t return his smile. “We’d like to talk to your boss, kid.”

“Oh!” Soos said. “Well, you’re talking to him!”

All he got in response was two stony looks from the agents.

“Is that so?” the red-haired man said. “That’s not what our records show.”

“Then your records are wrong,” said Wendy. “Fancy that…”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “How did you hurt your hand?”

“By punching some creep who was giving me trouble,” Wendy answered without skipping a beat. “Happens more often than you would think. Whatsit to you?”

The man rubbed his jaw, and Soos couldn’t tell if he was convinced by her reply.

“Cut to the chase, Agent Blauer,” the woman said, finally coming forward. She flashed them her ID card. “I’m Jill Dryer, of the US Government. I’ll be brief. Where is Stanford Pines? This establishment belongs to him, doesn’t it?”

“N-Not anymore,” said Soos. “Um, my name’s S-Soos Ramirez. I-I’m the one running it now.”

“So? Where has Mr. Pines gone, then?”

Soos opened his mouth to answer, but Wendy cut him off, “He’s travelling with a friend. Won’t be back for a while.” She gave Agent Dryer a wry look. “He doesn’t check his emails often, just sayin’.”

Dryer glanced to the side—no, at the _Stanmobile_ , Soos noted with a jolt. “Isn’t that Mr. Pines’ car?”

“Left it behind while he went to tour the world,” Wendy replied.

Dryer’s expression was still carefully neutral. “Would you let us inside, please? There’s much we need to discuss.”

“Uh, y-yeah, sure!” Soos said. “Wendy, y-you should tell the others that—”

“There are other people inside the house?” Dryer noted.

Wendy sent Soos a peeved look, and more sweat pooled under his fez.

“J-Just my grandma, my girlfriend and a few of our friends,” Soos answered. “W-We were about to eat dinner.”

“Good,” said Dryer. “That way, we can have their testimony as well.”

“Testimony ‘bout what?” Wendy said. “You can’t just barge into someone’s home without telling them what’s going on!”

“Why, you little—” Agent Blauer began.

Agent Dryer held up her hand. “To make a long story short, we’re here about a theft of government property.” She tapped the document folder under her arm. “A similar event happened last year, at the same facility.”

“So? What’s that have to do with us?”

Soos put on a placating smile, and pushed Wendy inside the Shack. “We’ll answer all of your questions, dudes, don’t worry.”

They found the girls and McGucket standing in the kitchen doorway. Confusion soon gave way to alarm when they caught sight of the two agents following after Soos and Wendy.

“Oh my,” said McGucket. “Who’re these people in suits?”

Candy and Grenda shared a grimace, while Pacifica stiffened. The only one to force a smile was Melody.

“Hello!” she told the two agents. “Can, uh, can we help you?”

“I’m just gonna have a little chat with these dudes in the office,” Soos told her. “We’ll join you guys for dinner later on, don’t worry.”

Melody nodded. “I could bring you some coffee, maybe?”

“That would be appreciated.” The corners of Agent Dryer’s lips twisted upward for all of a heartbeat. “Mr. Ramirez, if you please…”

Soos brought them to Stan’s—no, to _his_ —office. Agent Dryer leafed through her files after sitting down. Soos waited for her to speak, wringing his hands together, while Wendy just leaned on the wall, inspecting her nails.

“Blauer, would you begin?” Dryer said.

“Gladly,” Blauer said with a shark’s smile. “Ten days ago, on the night of the 18th of June, there was a breach at a government facility. Several barrels of toxic waste were stolen. I don’t need to tell you kids just why this is so concerning, do I?”

“Sure,” Wendy said with practised indifference. “Still don’t get where _we_ come in.”

“Well, as my colleague said before, there was another break-in last summer. The trail led our agents to Gravity Falls, but then it grew cold.” Blauer sneered. “Can you guess who our prime suspect was?”

“No clue!” Soos tried, while Wendy shrugged, only saying, “Nooope.”

“One Stanford Filbrick Pines,” Blauer continued. “The proud founder of—what’s it called?—The Mystery Hack?”

“Mystery _Shack_ ,” Soos said forcefully. “Your one-and-only stop for all that is wonderful and weird!”

That guy Blauer actually snorted, and Soos reined in the desire to have a very strongly worded conversation with him.

“’kay, so you think Stan stole those barrels ten days ago, right?” Wendy said. “Only problem is, well, he’s been away for months now. Can’t see how he could have broken into your governmental facility while he’s in the middle of the ocean.”

“How old are you?” Agent Dryer suddenly asked Wendy.

“Not your beeswax, lady.”

“Where are your parents?”

“One’s at logging camp, the other’s six feet under. Want me to give ‘em a call?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Dryer replied, undeterred.

“You realize you’re detaining a minor without the authorization of her legal guardian?” Wendy continued. “Aren’t there, like, laws against that?”

The lady actually had the nerve to quirk a single eyebrow.

With that simple gesture, Agent Dryer plainly told them just to what extent she cared about the law.

“In truth, the theft of the barrels isn’t my greatest concern,” she continued. She opened her folder, showing an array of various files. Obviously, she thought it was supposed to mean something to Soos, but frankly, he just didn’t have a clue.

“Last year, two colleagues of mine investigated a series of strange events concerning this town,” Dryer continued. “In short, our equipment had picked up… some rather strange readings coming from this area. After two weeks, our agents called for reinforcements on July 29th. The very same date, a localized earthquake occurred, causing important property damage.”

“ _We know_ ,” Wendy said through grit teeth. “We were there.”

“The next day, our team returned empty-handed,” Dryer continued, not commenting on Wendy’s rude interruption. “No explanation. No evidence. Weeks of investigation, and nothing to show for it.”

“Well, there you have it, dudes,” said Soos. “They found that nothing weird was going on, and they just went home.”

“You’ve never worked for the government, have you?” Dryer said softly. For a moment, her voice hinted at something other than cold professionalism. “Their lack of findings should have been described in written form to quite an extent. But there's nothing. No paperwork. No reports. As if the investigation had never happened in the first place. And that is more damning than anything they could have written about. The absence of data _means_ something.”

“It does?” Soos said, hoping she wouldn’t notice just how sweaty he had gotten.

She leaned over, staring him straight in the eye. “It means it was tampered with.”

Soos swallowed nervously, finding himself unable to speak. For such an unassuming-looking lady, she sure could be scary when she wanted to.

“So, asking again, but how does any of this have anything to do with Stan?” asked Wendy. “Or, more importantly, _us?_ ”

Soos managed a laugh. “Y-Yeah. What kind of stuff did you think Mr. Pines was up to?”

“That’s classified information, sonny,” Blauer said.

“ _Classified, my a—_ ” Wendy growled.

By then, Melody was coming in, holding two cups of coffee. “Here’s the coffee! Does anyone want any sugar or cream?”

Dryer’s eyes flicked over to her. “Please sit down, Ms.…?”

“Ramos,” Melody supplied. She took the seat next to Soos. “Um. I-Is there something else you need from me?”

“Nothing for now, thank you.” Agent Dryer took another glance at her files. "Jesús Ramirez and Wendy Corduroy. You used to be Mr. Pines’ employees, didn’t you? Were you working here last summer, in the month those abnormal readings were recorded?”

“ _What_ abnormal readings?” Soos said. “I-I mean, I still don’t get what you mean by that, dude.”

She stared at him, and Soos blushed, feeling like the kid who had been caught with a hand in the cookie jar.

“What he said,” added Wendy. “You’re being kinda vague, here.”

Agent Dryer turned toward Melody. “What about you? Perhaps _you_ understand the need for cooperation. The best would be to speak to you in private to record your testimony.”

Melody went pale, and Soos all but jumped out of his seat. “Wait, she doesn’t have anything to do with any of this! She wasn’t even here last summer!”

Agent Dryer didn’t even blink. “So something _did_ happen last summer.”

“I… uh…” Soos stammered.

“Like, do you get high on being such an anal-retentive jerk?” Wendy said, pointing at her. “We’ve got better things to do than being fed your bullshit!”

“Such as?”

“Melody isn’t involved!” Soos pleaded. “She didn’t do anything, really!”

Agent Dryer only looked at him without saying a word. Then, she told Agent Blauer, “Let’s try the grandmother as well. She might have additional information.”

“No!” Soos cried out, while Wendy snarled, lunging at her.

Immediately, the red-haired agent went to restrain her. Agent Dryer’s expression did not change while Wendy spouted obscenities at her.

“Alright, that’s enough,” she finally said. “Blauer, please escort Mr. Ramirez and Ms. Corduroy out. I have no more questions for them. Bring in Mrs. Ramirez.”

“ _Wait_ —” said Soos.

“Once we’re done with Ms. Ramos and Mrs. Ramirez, we’ll speak to everyone else.” Again, Dryer turned her gaze at Soos, making him flinch. “With enough luck, your testimonies will be consistent with one another. If not…” She shrugged. “Well, I guess it won’t come to that, will it?”

Soos forced himself to shake his head. “No, ma’am,” he said, “it won’t.”

* * *

The hour that followed was one of the longest in Soos’ life.

Thankfully, Abuelita and Melody were soon escorted out of the office by Agent Blauer while McGucket and the others were brought in. Soos felt a burst of affection at the hint of defiance glimmering in his grandma’s eyes; as always, Maria Ramirez held fast to her pride.

“Abuelita! Melody!” He came rushing to them. “Are you two alright?”

Melody tucked a strand of her behind one ear. “Okay… I guess. I just hope I didn’t make things worse without meaning to…”

“Of course you didn't! Oh, you guys, I’m so, _so_ sorry!”

“You don’t have to be, _mi’jo_.” Abuelita said, patting his arm. Then, in Spanish, she added, “Let us go. There’s a foul stench in this fine home of ours, and I can’t stand it.”

Soos helped her find her way outside. “Si, Abuelita.”

Wendy was already in the courtyard, venting her rage by chopping up firewood. Soos tried to cool his overheating mind as he watched her hack the logs to bits. Melody and Abuelita sat on the porch next to him, talking in low tones.

Finally, the three girls came out of the Shack, followed by McGucket. The old man kept muttering something, and he was pale as a sheet. Next came the two agents. Pacifica threw them a revolted stare, before tugging on McGucket’s arm, leading him away from the house. Melody helped Abuelita to her feet, and they went to join McGucket and the three girls.

“S-So?” Soos asked. “Everything’s fine, right? It’s just as we said, nothing weird’s going on around here…”

“There’s still a certain something we haven't broached,” Dryer said. “In short, we’ve found that the area is prone to…” She made a deliberate pause before adding, in a strangely forced tone, “small, localized earthquakes. Very dangerous. We recommend that you evacuate the premises while our experts study the matter.”

It took Soos some time to understand what she was saying. “Evacuate? Y-You mean leave the Shack?”

“Exactly. If there’s another of these… _earthquakes_ , then there’s a high probability that this building will collapse. From the looks of it, your Shack certainly wasn’t built to sustain that sort of event.”

“We can’t let you do your… _little tours_ under such circumstances,” added Blauer. “You wouldn’t want some of your clients to be hurt now, don’t you?”

“Being at the Shack isn’t _dangerous_ ,” Wendy said. “That’s a lot of claptrap and you know it!”

Agent Dryer barely glanced at her. “You cannot question the words of specialists. Mr. Ramirez, I’ll let you and your family gather some of your things. As for you, young lady, your lack of cooperation has been noted.”

“Lack of cooperation?” Wendy growled. “Lady, you haven’t seen anything yet—”

Soos gently pulled her away. “Thank you, Ms. Agent Lady. Wendy, we should be going.”

“ _Where?_ The Shack’s your home! Where are you going to stay?”

“W-We’ll find someplace,” Soos said nervously. “C’mon, Wendy.”

They joined the others across the yard. Pacifica was giving quite the stink eye to the two agents, while McGucket fidgeted behind her. Candy and Grenda were talking to Melody, who was still rather pale. Seeing her expression, Soos felt the urge to march back inside, and give Agent Dryer a piece of his mind.

“So?” Candy said. “What do they want?”

“To throw Soos and his grandma out of their house, apparently,” Wendy said. “Those bastards probably want to take the Shack apart!”

“Oh no,” Melody said, putting an arm over Soos’ shoulders. “I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“I should be the one apologizing,” Soos said, shoulders slumping. “Where are we supposed to go?”

“Well, mah house’s huge,” McGucket offered. He turned toward Abuelita. “Wanna move in?”

“I don’t see why not,” Abuelita answered.

“Wowsers!” said McGucket. “Ah’m scorin’! If only Stanferd’s brother was here, Ah’d rub it in ‘is face!”

Abuelita turned a little pink, while Pacifica groaned, “That’s gross, McGucket! Just… _gross!_ ”

“Huh,” said Wendy. “Yeah, McGucket’s place is not a bad idea for a base of operation.”

“Wait, don’t I get a say in this?” Pacifica said.

“Hey, it belongs to him now,” Wendy said, sounding a little smug. “Paid for it and everything. _He_ gets to choose.”

“I live there too, you know!”

“You do?” Soos asked.

“Well, duh,” Pacifica said. “Where else would I live? It was _my_ family’s mansion before he bought it!”

“Oh, so that’s where you’re staying,” said Candy. “I thought it was weird that you came back to school even though your parents moved out of town.”

Pacifica let out an irritated noise. “Yes, my parents moved out after the Not-Apocalypse. Yes, I moved back after they left. Yes, I’m not living with them right now. Can we get back to a more important topic?”

The girls and McGucket walked away, and their conversation became pure white noise to Soos’ ears. A sense of shame as thick as gunk settled in the pit of his stomach.

He was out of a home, and so were the two most important ladies in his life. Worse of all, Stan had trusted him with the Mystery Shack—with his life’s _work_ —and Soos had simply let it slip through his inept fingers. Stan, who was lost somewhere in the multiverse, along with the rest of his family.

Stan and his family, who were certainly facing unimaginable danger now that Soos and the others had failed to bring them home.

“Sorry,” Wendy told Soos. “I kinda messed everything up. I really need to check on my temper…”

“I wasn’t much better, dude,” Soos said. “I’m just so _dumb_. She ran circles around me.”

“Hey!” Wendy grabbed him by the shoulders. “Don’t say that! She’s an asshole, going for Melody and your grandma like that!”

“But if we can’t go to the Shack, how are we supposed to get the portal repaired?” Soos said, despairing. “Stan and Dipper and Mabel and the other Stan… how are we supposed to save them?”

“Easy,” Wendy said, eyes ablaze. “We fight the government.”

* * *

The next few days were spent in utter monotony.

Ford recovered from his injuries in record time, thanks to Kyan’s handy healing spells. Despite this, Yaspa and her people treated him like an invalid, more or less. In addition, the woman clearly did not trust Ford or his family. It was evident she considered them inconvenient guests at best, and useless mouths to feed at worst.

As soon as he could stand, Ford set out to explore their new lodgings. Yaspa’s ragtag bunch had taken refuge in a network of tunnels carved at the base of a mountain. Apparently, Jheselbraum’s temple was located at the mountaintop.

Or, rather, the _ruins_ of her temple.

“It was one of their first targets,” Yaspa had told Ford. “Lady Jheselbraum asked me to take as many people as I could and flee. It was the last time I ever saw her.” The story seemed to bring back painful memories, and Ford refrained from asking more details.

A pall of grief seemed to hover the whole of her people, in fact. Mabel had called them a rebellion, but Yaspa had the truth of it. Her people were refugees: acolytes of the old faith who had been hunted down, survivors of villages destroyed by raiders, dissenters who had fled rather than live under tyranny. Save for a select few, none of them had combat experience. Their situation was dire, and they spent every second of every single day being perfectly aware of it.

Despite all of this, Stan and the kids remained in relatively high spirits. It took Ford some time to realize just why they acted that way.

They were putting a happy font for _him_.

Dipper kept following him around, questioning him about Dimension 52 and asking him if he wanted to write some entries in his new journal. Mabel lamented that she had no stickers to put on his cast, before coming up with the idea to draw on it using her brother’s pens. And Stan…

Well, Stan just kept on being _Stan_.

Stan complained that there weren’t any cute ladies their age. He spun tall tales of their sea voyage to the kids running around their underground refuge. He made bad jokes and pulled pranks, more than often aided by the twins and that Zuri girl.

He also deflected any of Ford’s attempt at a serious conversation.

Ford did not press the issue, instead setting out to repair his laser gun. It had been broken when they had fallen from the tower. The process was somewhat tedious, but Ford welcomed it all the same.

It was the only way to keep his mind from spinning and spinning and _spinning_ —

The day he was finished with his task, Dipper and Mabel immediately asked if they could help him test it. Ford easily agreed; with Yaspa’s (grudgingly given) authorization, they gathered outside the tunnels, the twins and their new friend Kyan setting up bottles to serve as target practise.

It did not take long for Dipper and Mabel to egg him on; they asked Ford to strike ‘cool poses’ as he pulverized his targets, and he indulged each of their crazy requests. Soon, a big, dumb grin was plastered all over his face.

After he'd reduced all the bottles to pieces of glass, the twins eagerly dragged him somewhere else. Up the mountains, Ford soon realized.

“Kyan showed us this spot where you get a good view of the valley,” Mabel explained to him. “You're always up there, aren't you, Kyan?”

“Uh, yeah,” the boy said. “I mean, it's a nice place to practise my spells…”

Ford let himself be led by the hand, fondly listening to Mabel as she babbled on about a number of topics. The path twisted around the mountain, moving upward in a gentle slope. Ford noticed some ruins at the mountaintop. The remains of Jheselbraum’s temple, he realized with a pang.

Finally, they reached a somewhat flatter portion of the mountain, more or less halfway to the top. Still, they were high up enough to—as Mabel had promised—be graced with a wonderful look at the land below. Hills rolled away to the horizon, covered in faintly shimmering grass, while silver mist shrouded forests of glowing, bleached-white trees. From this distance, the effect was mesmerizing.

Ford sat down. “This… this is amazing. If only I had—oh.” Dipper was handing his journal over to him. “Thank you, my boy. You don’t mind if…?”

“Of course not,” Dipper replied. “I wouldn’t be able to do it justice, anyway. You’re a lot better at drawing than me.”

“You sell yourself too short,” Ford said. “You’re very talented, you know.”

“Pff, _right_ ,” said Dipper. “I mean, I’m not… this is… it really isn’t…”

Ford watched him sputter in fond amusement. “Alright. But I stand by my prior assessment.” He flipped through Dipper’s previous entries. A few pages were covered in strange symbols and incantations. “I see you've been studying how magic works in this dimension.” Again, he was filled with affection for the bright and curious boy sitting beside him.

“Yeah,” said Dipper. “I’ve been asking Kyan to teach us a few spells.”

“Oh,” said Kyan. “Teach’s a bit too big of a word, really. I’m just an apprentice, you know…”

Ford worked on his sketch, only half listening to the children's conversation. He would pepper Dipper and Kyan with questions about the topic later; for now, he only wanted to savour this moment of peace. Some time later, there was the telltale sound of gravel being crunched under a boot. Ford turned around, only to find his brother standing there.

“Hey, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel said. “You found our secret spot!”

“Secret?” Stan scoffed. “You two are always here, nowadays, practising _magic_ or whatever. Or so that kid Zuri says.”

“Did you climb all this way just to see us?” Ford asked.

“There’s a shortcut that leads back to the tunnels,” Stan replied. “I guess the kids showed you the scenic route, huh?”

“It’s more fun that way,” said Mabel. “It was like, a mini-hiking trip!”

“So, did you want to get some fresh air or did you have something to tell us?” Ford asked.

“Yeah," Stan said, "well, that lady Yaspa wants you guys to come back inside. It’s time for curfew an’ all. So back to the cave with all of yous.”

“We did forget to tell her we were going to fire a laser gun all over the place,” Dipper said sheepishly.

Kyan’s blue face grew paler. “Oh _no_. If she learns about that, she’s going to be so, _so_ mad!”

“Yeesh! Better keep that to ourselves, huh?”

“Alright, nerdlings, time to go!” Mabel grabbed Dipper and Kyan by the arms, ignoring their protests and dragging them both away.

“You heard her, nerd prime,” Stan told Ford.

“Just need to put the finishing touches,” Ford said, showing him his nearly completed drawing.

“Alright, then,” said Stan. “Take your time. We always broke curfew when we were kids. Why not one more time, for old time's sake?”

Ford chuckled. “We sure were little devils. Poor Ma…”

“Yep. Poor Ma.” Stan was looking at the scenery with a wistful little smile playing along the edges of his lips. “Hell of a view.”

“Hell of a view,” Ford agreed. After a moment of silence, he inhaled deeply, gathering his strength to ask, “Are you alright, Stan? Is everything fine?”

“’Course I am,” Stan said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just… if my theory about the Eye of Dawn is true, then—”

“You know what?” Stan interrupted him. “I’m kinda starving. See you at the mess hall, bro.”

“Stan, _wait!_ ”

Ford moved to go after him, but instead he remained rooted to his spot. A sudden lassitude swept over him. All the work the kids had done to help him clear his mind—gone in the blink of an eye. For a moment, he simply looked at the glowing valley below, pen hovering over paper. With another sigh, Ford finally got to his feet, following his brother back into the mountain.

* * *

For the third night in a row, Ford slept dreadfully.

It should have helped that the room they’d been given was so cramped. Normally, he would have been reassured to have his family so close by. Now, even Stan’s snores grated on his nerves.

Of course, the fact that Stanley was sawing logs wasn’t what kept him up at night, not by a long shot.

Ford groaned, turning on his cot. He had lost count of the times that he had woken up this night. On the other end of the room, Dipper was mumbling in his sleep. Stan seemed absolutely insensate to the world. And Mabel…

Mabel was nowhere to be found.

Ford sat up abruptly, his mind suddenly clear of all drowsiness. Heart pounding, he put on his sweater and rushed out of the room.

Only a few people were up at this hour, but none of them seemed particularly willing to help him. One man, however, took pity when Ford came rushing his way.

“I’m sorry, but have you seen a human girl pass by recently?” Ford asked him. “I’m looking for my niece.”

“Your what? Oh, you mean one of your children, don’t you?”

“My niece, yes,” Ford said. “The one with long hair?”

“I did see her. She was going toward the mess hall, I think.”

Ford felt a weight off his shoulders. “Thank you!” he told the man, hurrying toward the mess hall. Ford sighed in relief when he spotted a familiar figure knitting at one of the carved stone tables.

“Mabel!” he called out. “What are you doing out of bed?”

Mabel looked at him with the expression of a startled rabbit. Her smile was not long in coming, however. “Hello, Grunkle Ford! You can’t sleep too?”

Ford took the seat next to her. “Yes, well… I woke up, and when I didn’t see you in your bed, I kind of…”

“Oh no!” Mabel said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out! I just wanted a midnight snack!” She scrunched up her nose. “Of course, all we’ve got are those nasty ration thingies! What I wouldn’t give for a cup of cocoa!”

Ford blinked, not pointing out that she could have eaten back in their room. Mabel was usually rather upfront when she was upset. He wondered why she was being so cagey now.

“A cup of cocoa would be heavenly, yes,” he said, cautiously. She hummed in agreement, and he added, “I meant to ask before, but where on earth did you get knitting needles?”

“Some nice lady lent them to me. I’m making space scarves for Candy and Grenda!”

“ _Space_ scarves?”

“I know we’re not in space,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “It just sounds better than ‘transdimensional mufflers’ in my opinion.”

“If you say so,” Ford said, vaguely amused. “I know it’s important to you, but perhaps you should work on your friends’ souvenirs tomorrow. You should be sleeping right now.”

“I’m fine,” she said nonchalantly. “Mom says I’m like a little battery, I can go on and on and on…”

“That you do,” Ford agreed. “But still…”

“Alright, alright,” she said, rather huffily. “I had a nightmare and I couldn’t go back to sleep.”

Ford mulled over her words. Stan was usually the one to comfort the children when they were upset, not him. What would Ford's brother do in the current situation? “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nope!” she said. She was quiet for a while, before adding, “I miss Waddles. Piggy hugs are the best way to fall asleep.”

Mabel wasn’t looking at him, but Ford wondered if she was asking _him_ for a hug, in a roundabout sort of way. He stayed silent as he mulled over this possibility.

“Oh no!” Mabel said. “There’s a hole in your sweater!”

Indeed, the spot over Ford’s elbow was coming apart at the seams. “Well, now. I hadn’t noticed.”

“It probably happened when that horrible priestess lady hurt you!” Mabel said. “And it’s a _souvenir_ sweater too! Ugh! Is there no end to her evil?”

“It’s okay, Mabel. It’s just a sweater.”

“ _No_ , like I said, it’s a souvenir sweater, that means it’s _important_.” Mabel made a grabby hand motion at him. “Well, hand it over, I’m gonna fix it.”

Ford stifled a laugh. “I don’t get a say in this?”

“Nope!”

“Alright, then. Thank you, sweetheart.”

He handed his sweater to her, and she got to work immediately. Ford was grateful for her presence, the rhythmic clicking of her needles nearly lulling him to sleep.

“You have these weird scars around your wrists and your neck,” Mabel eventually said, in a tone that would have been appropriate to comment on the weather.

Ford cursed under his breath. He’d forgotten that he was only wearing a t-shirt under his sweater. “That’s… true.”

For a moment, Mabel said nothing. Then, in a tight voice she asked, “Did you get them because of Bi—because of Weirdmageddon?”

Ford sighed. Sometimes she was perceptive to a supernatural degree. “It’s not important. It’s all in the past.”

“Huh.” She didn’t seem that convinced. “So I guess it’s something else that’s my fault.”

Ford’s breath caught in his throat. “What?! What is that supposed to mean?”

“Weirdmageddon. It’s my fault it happened, remember?” Mabel seemed very small as she stared back at him. “I guess Dipper didn’t tell you, huh?”

“That’s…” Ford shook his head, trying to process what she had just said. “No. Dipper didn’t tell me.”

“It was just…” She drew her knees to herself. “It was just after you asked Dipper if he wanted to stay in Gravity Falls. I kinda… freaked out, you know? I thought about the way you and Grunkle Stan didn’t speak for years after your fight, and I was afraid that it would turn out that way for us too. He’s my best friend, I don’t want him to go away…”

“Mabel…”

“And then this time-traveller guy showed up… me and Dipper, we helped him once, so he’s like, hey, maybe I can do you a favour in return?” She put down her knitting needles, and Ford was horrified to see her wiping her eyes. “So he says he’s got a magical way to stop time or whatever, and I thought… maybe I could make my summer go on just a little longer. Maybe I didn’t have to grow up and see e-everyone I c-care about go away ‘cause t-they’ve got better things to do than _wasting_ their time being w-with—”

Ford immediately brought her into a hug. “There, there,” he said, patting her head. “It’s alright, it’s alright…”

“But it was Bill!” Mabel cried, tears now falling freely from her eyes. “He just wanted the rift, and he talked me into giving it to him, and I fell for it like a big dummy! E-Everyone got hurt so badly ‘cause I was stupid and _selfish_ —”

“Mabel.” She continued to ramble, unaware of his interruption. His heart broke in two when he realized she kept apologizing to _him_. “Mabel!” Ford said, a bit more firmly.

Thankfully, she turned a tear-streaked face toward him.

“Mabel, I fell for it too,” Ford said. “And I was an adult when I met him. There’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

“T-That’s what Dipper said.” She sniffed loudly. “He got p-possessed by B-Bill too, you know…”

“I know,” Ford said, anger flaring. The people he loved could be counted on the fingers of one hand, and that bastard Bill Cipher had gleefully toyed with all of their lives.

Mabel looked sadly at the scars around his wrists. “But, you see… if I hadn’t given him the rift, then Weirdmageddon wouldn’t have happened, and Stan wouldn’t have lost his memories, and w-we wouldn’t be stuck here with those jerks who want to _hurt_ him—”

“Mabel, if someone is to blame, it should be me. I built the portal that brought him to our dimension. I’m the one who encouraged Dipper…” Ford paused, hesitant to share this truth with her. “Well, encouraged him to spend less time with you.”

To his horror, she winced. Ford was painfully reminded of his words to Dipper back then.

_Gosh, we've never really been apart before…_

_Yes, and isn’t it **suffocating**?_

Ford was thankful that Stan hadn’t heard that particular admission.

“You didn’t mean anything wrong by it,” Mabel mumbled. “You just wanted to help Dipper. You thought it was the right thing to do.”

Ford could barely stand to look into her eyes. He didn’t really deserve her forgiveness, not when he had all but called her (and Stan, by extension) a burden not even a year ago. Instead, he said, “Thankfully, your brother was far wiser at the ripe age of twelve than I was at twice his age.”

A smile broke on Mabel’s little face. “I’m lucky to have him, right?”

“And _we’re_ lucky to have you,” Ford added. “Don’t you ever forget it.”

“Aw, you big softie, you,” she said, yawning like a kitten. “Good night, Grunkle Ford.”

Ford stroked her hair until she fell asleep. Very slowly, he stood up, carrying her back to the room they shared with their respective twins. He moved to put the child in bed, but she clung to his shirt, mumbling in her sleep. With a sigh, Ford sat down on his own cot.

A few minutes later, and he was deeply asleep.

* * *

Ford sat in his bunk, book lying unread in his lap. The boat swayed with the waves, making him rather sleepy. He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the sea. The cries of the seagulls and the surges of the tide were almost more comforting than the voice of his mother.

Wait, was that music? Was someone singing?

Ford stood up, climbing the staircase leading to the deck. The lights above him flickered. Odd. Stan had just changed the lightbulbs.

Outside, the wind whipped at Ford, and he rubbed his hands together for more warmth. Frowning, he searched for his brother. If Stan wasn’t below deck, then he had to be here. There was nowhere else he could be in the small space of the _Stan O’War II_.

Ford spied a figure at the bow of the ship. The man was clad in a long brown coat, messy grey hair sticking out from under a red beanie. He was facing away from Ford, eyes fixed on the raging sea below.

Stanley was humming a song. Ford’s stomach twisted as he recognized the tune.

 _Someone else_ had sung this song to him.

“Stan?” Ford asked.

Slowly, his brother turned toward him. The blood in Ford’s veins froze at the sight of his face.

One of Stanley’s eyes was bloodied and swollen shut. The other burned a bright yellow.

“Hiya, Sixer!” Stan said in a voice that wasn’t his own. “Didja me miss me? Admit it, you missed me!”

Ford grabbed his gun, pointing it at the thing in front of him, the _thing_ wearing his brother’s skin. “Let him go! Let him go or else…!”

“Or what? You’ll blow my brains out?” Bill-in-Stan’s-body appeared to consider this for a moment. “Oh, wait! You can’t!” And he laughed.

Ford’s hands were shaking. “You’re dead. He killed you, Stan killed you!”

Bill shrugged with Stan’s shoulders. “Did he? Maybe I’m still somewhere in that empty skull of his! Wouldn’t it be fun to find out?” He looked at the gun and back at Ford, his grin widening. “Or maybe we could play another game. It’s called, ‘Hey, Ford! D’you have the guts to shoot your brother again, but with a real gun this time?’ At least it would put an end to his misery quickly! It’d be just, _boom!_ Goodbye, Stannie! Would make one hell of a mess, though, all that brain matter everywhere…”

“Shut up,” said Ford. “You’re dead, you’re dead…”

Bill’s grin grew into a leer. “You can’t do it, can you? And here I thought you were a special boy— _the man who will change the world!_ Some hero you turned out to be, Fordsie Pines. You can’t even shoot your own brother for the greater good.”

Ford lowered his gun, shaking his head. “No, no, no…”

And suddenly he was back in Bill’s lair, hands shackled, skin sizzling from yet another bolt of lightning. He was back in Bill’s lair, and the demon was screaming in glee, “ _I’VE GOT CHILDREN TO MAKE INTO CORPSES!_ ” He was back in Bill’s lair, holding the memory gun to his brother’s head while Dipper and Mabel looked on in confusion and horror.

“What are you doing, Grunkle Ford?” they asked, voices flat.

Ford could not answer; the gun was heavy in his hand, and the clock was ticking ominously in his head.

“ _What are you doing?_ ” This time, it was not a plea for answers, but an _accusation_.

“I…” Ford managed. “I can’t do it, _not again_ …”

“Tick-tock, time’s up!” another voice said, sing-song. Stan was standing up, nonchalantly dusting off his pants. His face split in a grin. “Aw, don’t make that face, Sixer! Don’t you like your newly improved brother? You complained so much about the old model!”

Bill snapped Stan’s fingers, and the ground under Ford’s feet began to tremble. The floor and walls were being ripped apart, sucked in by the gaping dimensional wound forming above their heads. With twin screams, Dipper and Mabel fell skyward. Ford desperately, _futilely_ tried to reach them. There was a disturbing _popping_ sound, and the whole of their bodies scattered into millions of pieces. Ford stared at the tiny specks still floating in the air, mouth open in a silent scream.

“See?” Bill’s voice came out of Stan’s mouth. “Think of all the trouble you could have avoided with just one well-placed bullet!” Bill cocked Stan’s head. “ _Less dead children, for one!”_

Bill’s laughter grew in intensity as more of the world came apart at the seams. The demon raised a hand— _Stan’s_ hand—and Ford’s feet left the ground. Ford reached for his throat; the air was getting thinner, and Ford could not _breathe_ , and—

And Ford woke up with a gasp.

Something sat heavily on his chest, making him wheeze. Ford moved a bit, spying a thick mane of brown hair. He sighed in relief as the realization sank in. It was just Mabel, still adrift in the world of dreams.

Ford sat up, taking great care not to wake the child. Dipper’s head was peeking out of his blanket, and he was slightly drooling all over it. And Stan…

Stan’s eyes were closed, and his chest was rising and falling with the peaceful rhythm of his breathing. He was still blissfully asleep.

Ford sank back on his cot, still holding Mabel.

He did not sleep for the remainder of the night.


	10. Chapter 10

It had been three days since Soos and his family had been evicted from the Shack.

Thankfully, everyone pitched in to help with the move, McGucket’s bots even carrying Abuelita’s favourite recliner across town. Abuelita and Melody instantly bonded with the old man’s daughter-in-law, finding in her a fellow fan of _telenovelas_. The fact that she was also a new mom to a cuddly baby helped as well. McGucket’s son Tate mostly kept to himself… but he also cooked a mean steak and offered to do maintenance on Soos’ truck free of charge. And of course McGucket was ecstatic to have ‘new roomies’; Soos was half-expecting him to ask them to move in permanently.

For the third day in a row, the Pines Rescue Squad gathered in McGucket’s office (once Preston Northwest’s ‘thinking parlour’) to discuss their next course of action. McGucket couldn’t stop pacing the room. Pacifica, Candy and Grenda sat perched on the less messy parts of McGucket’s desk, while Wendy leaned on the wall, ever the cool one. Soos found a spot on the floor that was free of mechanical parts or discarded blueprints, letting Melody have the last seat.

Melody was also the first to come up with a solution. Of course, being rather new to the strange happenings of Gravity Falls, her plan was somewhat sensible. Or more precisely, kinda boring.

She proposed to file a complaint to the authorities.

“I know those two are government agents,” she told Soos and the others, “but they can’t just evict people out of their homes on a whim. That’s not how things work! There’s supposed to be checks and balances to keep authorities from abusing their power. My dad can’t even buy a burger on his employer’s payroll without filing paperwork, and he only works for the DMV!”

Soos didn’t have the heart to tell her that it probably didn’t matter. “Well… I can’t see why we couldn’t try, really…”

“Good. Did you get from which agency they’re from? The FBI maybe? Like those guys from _X-Files_?”

“Whatever service they work for, I doubt they accept customer complaints,” Pacifica said.

“Well, it doesn’t cost anything to just try, does it?” Melody countered. “I can see to it while you guys try something else.”

“Good idea!” said Soos. “You do that while we, uh…”

“Twiddle our thumbs?” Pacifica said with a sneer. “Run in circles? Waste another few hours complaining about bureaucracy?”

“If you have a brilliant idea, let’s hear it,” Wendy replied. She weathered Pacifica’s ensuing glare before asking Soos, “Last year, what did you guys do to get rid of ‘em?”

“Oh, Dr. Pines used that memory gun thingie to wipe their memories. Saved us a lot of trouble, heh.”

“You mean the memory gun thingie they used to—” Pacifica began.

“He _WHAT?_ ” McGucket interrupted her. He tugged at his hat, shaking his head over and over again. “He couldn’t, he _didn’t_ …”

“Uh…” Soos forced out a nervous laugh. “I-It was for a good reason, you know…”

McGucket’s expression showed an intensity Soos would have never associated with the old man. “ _No memory guns. No mind wipes._ ”

“Alright, dude, _chill_ ,” said Wendy. “Option’s off the table, don’t worry.”

Soos sighed. “Aw man, we suck at this! By now, Dipper would have come up with like, a dozen plans or something! Wait, maybe if I focus enough we can connect our minds across dimensions, and I can ask for his help!”

“I doubt you can do that,” Pacifica said.

“Huh. I guess he can only do it with Mabel. Must be a twin thing!”

Pacifica looked like she wanted to scream. In the end, she simply scoffed and stayed silent.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. A woman with pleasant curves and a friendly smile was peeking inside, holding a baby in her arms. “Hello? I hope I’m not intruding or anything…”

“’Course not!” McGucket answered. “Can we do sumthin’ fer ya, Sherry?”

“I have to go in town for an appointment. Can you watch over Harper for me?” McGucket’s daughter-in-law frowned for a moment. “Tate did tell you about it, didn’t he?”

McGucket slapped his head, letting out a nervous laugh. “Of course, he did! Ah totally… didn’t forget ‘bout it or nuthin’…”

Sherry beamed at him. “Alright, then! I won’t be long, don’t worry!”

“Oh, oh!” said Grenda. “Can I hold her first?”

Sherry handed little Harper over to Grenda, and everyone swarmed around the two of them. Soos, Melody and Candy cooed over the baby, who was looking at them with bright, curious eyes. Even Wendy was grinning as she poked Harper on the belly. Only Pacifica remained aloof, eyeing the baby with a raised brow.

McGucket nodded absently as Sherry unleashed a flurry of instructions on him. His feeble smile dissipated the moment she was out of the doorway. By now Harper had been moved to Candy’s arms.

“She’s so tiny!” she said, adjusting her hold on the baby. “She practically weights nothing!”

“Well, she _is_ just one-month-old,” Pacifica said.

“One month and a week,” McGucket corrected.

“Can I hold her next?” Soos asked. His heart nearly burst with joy when Candy handed the baby over to him. “Aw! You’re a lil’ cutie pie, arentcha? Yes, yes, you are!” Melody raised fond eyes to him, and Soos found himself blushing furiously.

Then Harper’s little face crumpled, and she began to cry.

“Oh,” said Soos. “Oh no, dudette, don’t cry! Here, Mr. McGucket, can you cheer her up?”

“Wait—” McGucket said, holding up his hands.

“There you go, duderina,” Soos said, giving Harper to the old man. “You’re with your grandpappy! Don’t you feel better already?”

As on cue, Harper sniffed a little and stopped crying. McGucket seemed mesmerized by her reaction.

“That’s…” the old man said. “That’s the first time Ah ever got to holding her…”

“What?!” said Pacifica. “But… but she’s one month old! How is it that you never held her?!”

McGucket evaded her insistent gaze. “Uh, well…”

“Is it your son?” Pacifica said sharply. “You’re telling me that he’s fine moving with you if it means living in luxury, but that he won’t even let you hold your granddaughter?”

“N-No. It ain’t his fault, it’s…” Instead of elaborating, McGucket went silent.

“ _Well?_ ”

“Oh, yannow… back when Tater was small… Ah wasn’t a good daddy. He and his Ma were scared of me, and fer good reasons too. Ah thought… well, Ah was ‘fraid Harper would be scared of me too.” Very quietly, McGucket added, “Ah was ‘fraid Ah’d hurt her…”

Soos’ lower lip wobbled. “That’s… that’s so sad, dude!”

“Oh.” Pacifica looked troubled. “But you’ve changed. You’re not like you were before.”

McGucket managed a smile. “Heh. Ya think so?”

“Well, you’re not living in a dump anymore—” Pacifica scowled when everyone glared at her, “— _Hey!_ Don’t try to pretend you weren’t all thinking the same!”

“It’s fine,” McGucket said with a shrug. “Dontcha think so, sweet pea?”

Harper gave an adorable yawn in response.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, and they were nowhere a solution.

Pacifica was ready to tear her hair out. Candy and Grenda had gone back to their homes for dinner, their usual enthusiasm dialed back a notch. Wendy had nothing to offer but angry quips, while that oaf Soos’ suggestions just kept getting more ludicrous. And McGucket had long tapped out; he was slumbering in his rocking chair, still holding Harper.

Eventually, Sherry came back, providing a welcome distraction to the incompetence on display. Her lips quirked into a smile as she saw her daughter asleep in McGucket’s arms.

The old man’s eyes fluttered open, and he mumbled a bit, waking up Harper as well. “Oh. Howdy, Sherry.”

“She looks so comfy,” Sherry said, hands over her heart. “I almost feel bad for taking her away.”

“Oh, don’t say that. Ah’m sure she missed ya plenty… h-here, back to yer mama, sugarplum…” Still, McGucket almost seemed disappointed to relinquish his hold on his granddaughter.

“Thank you ever so much!” Sherry said. “Oh, just so you guys know, Tate just finished making dinner. Is spaghetti alright with all of you?”

“Of course it is!” said Soos. “Thanks, Mrs. McGucket!”

Pacifica fought back a grimace as they made their way to the dining room. Last summer, her parents had sold most of their paintings and sculptures in an effort to raise enough money to keep the mansion. Save for the addition of a few family photos and some of Tate’s fishing trophies, the McGuckets hadn’t thought to fill those now empty spots. The effect was disquieting; Pacifica felt like she’d stepped into a bizarre parallel version of her childhood home.

It was hard not to feel like an intruder in someone else’s life.

The impression only grew stronger as they sat down to eat dinner. Sherry and Soos kept trying to talk to her, as if they were interested in anything she had to say. It was _weird_ ; those people didn’t stand to gain anything by getting to know Pacifica better, so why did they even bother? They were as bad as Mabel on that front. Pacifica winced, quickly putting aside any thought of the girl with the braces-filled smile or her dumb dork of a brother. Instead, she poked at her pasta, lost in gloomy thoughts.

“Oh, Pacifica, dear,” Sherry said, snapping Pacifica out of her reverie. “Before I forget… it’s nice of you to watch over your friend’s pig, but something broke into the garden last night and made quite a mess. That’s the second time this week… I’m thinking of asking Fiddleford if he can build a pen for him. I hope you don’t mind?”

“But the pig’s been here for only three days,” Pacifica muttered, confused.

“Hmm? Did you say something, sweetie?”

“Nothing. Build him a pen or whatever. As long as he’s out of my hair, I don’t care what he’s up to.”

“Alright,” said Sherry. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

Pacifica went back to staring at her dinner plate in silence. Something gnawed at her, something that suspiciously felt like worry. Rather than dwell on it too much, she finished her pasta without much enthusiasm.

* * *

Later that night, Pacifica hid in the garden, baseball bat in hand.

She had lived in Gravity Falls all of her life; it was unlikely that the creature who had taken a liking to Sherry’s vegetables was a simple, normal pest. If Pacifica had learned anything by hangning out with Dipper and Mabel, it was to take the supernatural seriously.

Still, it was getting late, and Pacifica felt more embarrassed by the minute. Her knees ached from kneeling in the dirt, and she probably had a few twigs stuck in her hair. She tried to picture her father or any of her ‘illustrious’ ancestors using shrubbery to spring an ambush on a pesky supernatural critter. Of course she couldn’t. Pacifica could, however, imagine their sneers all too well.

“Hey, dudette!” a voice said behind her. “What are you doing in a bush?”

Pacifica yelped, nearly jumping two feet in the air. Soos was crouching beside her, smiling that stupid smile of his.

“ _You!_ ” Pacifica hissed. “Did you really have to sneak up on me?”

“Oops! Sorry, didn’t mean to surprise you!”

“ _Ugh_. Go away.” After a while, Pacifica groaned and added, “ _Please?_ ”

“I can help you, dude! I mean, I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but I bet it’ll be easier as a team, right?”

Pacifica’s first impulse was to ask him _why_ , but something told her he would only respond with something sappy straight out of a kids’ cartoon. Instead, she said, “Just keep your eyes peeled. I’m trying to catch the thing that tore through Sherry’s garden.”

Of course, she didn’t voice aloud the real reason for her late-night stakeout. The creature, whatever it was, could very much decide that unripe tomatoes were not up to its delicate taste. It could develop instead a love for pig flesh. Mabel would whine and wail if she came home only to find her beloved pet gone, and Pacifica wasn’t ready to face that amount of caterwauling.

“Oh, you don’t want it to eat Waddles, do you?”

Pacifica froze. Either Soos was a great deal more perceptive than he let on or she was starting to lose her touch. “I just don’t want more trouble piling up. Now shut up or go away.”

To her relief, he went silent. The sun finished its descent over the horizon, leaving the garden in near gloom. Pacifica was starting to nod off when she heard a scratching sound. Heart pounding, she leaned forward a bit, peering out of her bush. A four-legged critter was moving in a darkened corner of the garden, digging up something with its front paws.

Pacifica’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait… is that…”

“Oh my gosh!” Soos said, delighted.

Immediately, the creature whipped back its head. A familiar reptilian face looked back at Pacifica, woollen fur bristling. She lowered her bat, a strange feeling blooming in her chest.

“It’s the llamasaur!” Soos exclaimed. “Little dude must have followed us out of the wreck!”

“But why is it _here?_ How many miles is there between the crash site and the manor?”

“I dunno,” Soos answered. “Hey, maybe it imprinted on you! Just think about it! It’s been nearly two weeks, and it still went all this way to find you!”

“That’s just ludicrous!”

The llamasaur was eyeing them carefully. Pacifica plucked a tomato from a stalk, throwing it at the creature’s feet. It blinked once or twice before swallowing it whole.

Before she could react, the creature tottered toward her, head bowed and eyes still fixed on her. Pacifica went to her knees, offering it another tomato. The creature took it from her hand more gently than she would have believed.

“I knew it!” said Soos. “Aw, it likes you!”

“ _No_ , that’s just stup—” The llamasaur nudged at Pacifica hand, shocking her speechless. “Oh.”

“Oh man! I’m almost jealous, you know?” Soos held out his hand, and the llamasaur sniffed it. He scratched its woolly neck, and it flopped on his back, tongue hanging out. ”Heh! Only in Gravity Falls would anyone find such a weird pet!”

Pacifica rolled her eyes. “This is Gravity Falls, nothing is ever normal— _oh_.” She stopped, suddenly struck by an idea so brilliant in its stupidity that she felt ashamed to say it out loud. “I… I think I know how to get rid of these government agents.”

“Wait, really?” Soos’ grin grew broader. “Oh, oh, did you manage to connect with Dipper on the astral plane?! Did _he_ give you an idea?”

“What? _No!_ ” Pacifica shook her head, getting to her feet. “Anyway, that’s not important! Go get McGucket! We’re going to need the whole town to pull it off!”

“Sure thing, ma’am!” Soos said, offering a military-style salute.

And he took off, leaving Pacifica with the llamasaur. Without realizing, she found herself patting its head. The creature leaned into her touch, making noises of appreciation.

“Nothing’s ever normal in Gravity Falls, isn’t it?” she mused. As on cue, the llamasaur started to purr.

Somehow, the idea wasn’t as revolting as it used to be.

* * *

Mabel woke up that morning with quite the crick in her neck.

She also was on the wrong side of the room. Groaning, she rubbed her eyes, wondering why she hadn’t slept in her cot. Then, it all rushed back to her: Grunkle Ford finding her in the mess hall, her tear-filled meltdown, him comforting her…

Mabel sat up so abruptly she felt woozy for half a second. Grunkle Ford was nowhere to be found.

She went over to her brother’s cot on tiptoes, not wanting to wake poor Grunkle Stan up. “Dip,” she whispered, pushing him a little. “Dip, wake up!”

“ _What?_ What’s the rush?”

“I wanna look for Grunkle Ford. And maybe pester the guy who handles the cooking so we can get breakfast early. But mainly look for Grunkle Ford.”

Dipper squinted at their grunkle’s empty cot. “Alright. He can’t have gone that far, really.”

They set out, leaving Stan still snoring in bed. Despite the early hour, the tunnels were bustling with people. Mabel greeted each and every person with all the enthusiasm she could muster. Everyone here was so gloomy all the time; Mabel wished she could do more to help, but for now, smiles were her only option.

Dipper suddenly held up his hand, stopping Mabel in his tracks. Distant voices came from a nearby room.

“…very sorry for you and your family, but I have other priorities,” that Yaspa lady was saying. “I have supply runs to set up. Patrols to deal with. I can’t spare you any resource so you can jump directly into the enemy’s jaws.”

“I don’t need much,” a familiar voice said. Dipper and Mabel exchanged a glance; Grunkle Ford sounded unusually agitated. “But trust me when I say that helping us would be in your best interest.”

“Trust you?” Yaspa scoffed. “You think I managed to keep my people safe so far by blindly trusting every straggler that came our way?”

“No. But you wouldn’t have come this far either if you weren’t willing to take risks once in a while.” His words prompted an irritated noise out of Yaspa. Ford seemed to ignore her, only saying, “Is there some way I can convince you to help us? A favour for a favour, that sort of thing?”

The twins scooted closer to the door. Mabel nearly jumped ten feet in the air, however, when a voice behind her whispered, “What are you guys doing? Are you eavesdropping on Yaspa?”

Kyan was standing behind Mabel and her brother, smiling sheepishly.

“Yes!” she huffed. “As a matter of fact, we were!”

Kyan's answer got cut short when Grunkle Ford stomped out of the room. He frowned as he caught sight of the twins. Mabel gave him the biggest smile she could muster.

Ford didn’t return her smile. “Kids. What are you doing here?”

“We were just looking for you!” Mabel said, grabbing his hand. “Are you hungry? I bet they’re serving breakfast by now!”

“I’m fine. You two go eat with the others. I have some things to attend to.”

“Aww, c’mon, what’s more important than spending time with your favourite niece and nephew?”

Grunkle Ford had the decency to look abashed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put it that way…”

She tugged on his arm, groaning as he stayed stubbornly put. “Dipper, help me! The subject is being uncooperative!”

“Sorry, Great Uncle Ford,” Dipper said, grabbing his uncle’s other arm. “I guess you’re coming with us.”

“You’re our _prisoner!_ ”

“Alright, alright!” To Mabel’s relief, there was a hint of humour in Ford’s voice. “I guess I need to resign myself to this cruel fate. Oh, wait, what’s this? My old man legs are failing me.”

And he had the _nerve_ to let himself fall backward, leaving Mabel and Dipper struggling to push him to an upright position. Kyan simply stared at them, looking both amused and bewildered.

“Oh, man, you’re heavy,” Dipper said with a wheeze.

“You’re _horrible!_ ” Mabel said, while Grunkle Ford chuckled. Still, she found herself smiling.

It was a tiny victory, but one she welcomed nonetheless.

* * *

Grunkle Ford spent his breakfast with Mabel and the others, to her great delight—

—only to disappear back into their room the moment he finished his plate.

It was _infuriating_. It reminded Mabel of the way he'd stayed cooped up in the basement last summer, like the world’s nerdiest vampire. When she had asked him if they could help with his mysteriously urgent task, he had just spouted some nerdy nonsense about his translator bracelet gizmo. Grunkle Ford had then ruffled Mabel’s hair, telling her to, ‘run along and play with her friends,’ like she was a six-year-old instead of a bonafide teenager.

So Mabel was stuck outside, bored out of her mind as she watched her brother practise casting spells with Kyan. She'd been _ecstatic_ at first at the thought of learning magic. She’d happily told Kyan that she was a Hufflepuff, according to all the online quizzes she took, and that she had watched all the best magical girl shows of the last twenty years.

She had been less enthused when she’d realized learning magic involved knowing all sorts of weird incantations and symbols. In the end, she’d conceded that complicated stuff like that was better left to a professional nerd like Dipper. Still, Mabel was proud and happy that he was willing to try it out. It probably made him feel like he was in a real-life version of those tabletop games he loved so much, after all.

Kyan and Dipper were doing some wiggly hand motions, almost as if they were drawing something in the air. A glowing symbol appeared in front of Kyan, and a little flame flared to life in one of his hands. Nothing happened on Dipper's end. Mabel’s twin was scowling, the same way he did when he had to start the same video game level over and over again.

“I can’t believe how _precise_ your sigils are,” Kyan was saying. “When I first started, mine were all crooked. None of my spells worked!”

“Well, none of mine worked so far either,” Dipper replied, sounding exasperated. “You said the sigils draw on your world’s innate magical properties, right? Maybe I just can’t access that energy ‘cause I’m from another dimension.”

Kyan’s smile had a forced quality to it. “I can’t really say…”

“Back home," Dipper added, "you just had to say the right incantation or have the correct components to cast a spell. I guess it works differently here.”

“Maybe you just need a little more practise?” Kyan said.

Mabel had to stifle a laugh. He’d sounded so _hopeful_ … and poor Dipper remained so _clueless_.

“Ugh,” said Dipper. “Maybe. I think I just need a break.”

“Yeah.” Kyan scratched the back of his head. “It’s really not as easy as it looks.”

“How did you learn how to do it?” Mabel asked. “Magic, I mean.”

“Um… Zuri smuggled some books from the ruins of the temple. A lot of the priests and priestesses were really good with magic.” There was a weighty pause, before he added, “Like our parents. They were two of Lady Jheselbraum’s acolytes.”

“Oh,” said Mabel. “Are they…?”

“I don’t know,” Kyan said, shrugging. “I was so little when the temple was attacked, I barely remember any of it. Zuri thinks they’ve been killed, but I’m… I’m not sure. A part of me just want to think that they’ve been captured. I know it’s childish of me to believe that they’re still alive, but…”

“Of course it’s not!” Mabel exclaimed. Horror settled in the pit of her stomach as she tried to imagine being in his shoes. Sometimes, she was happy that her own parents had never set foot in Gravity Falls; Mabel’s home of the heart was wonderfully weird, yes, but also incredibly dangerous.

Kyan did not say anything. He simply cast his eyes downward, looking miserable.

“Um,” Dipper said, in a clear attempt to change subjects, “what did the priests and priestesses do, exactly?”

“They assisted with rituals, mainly,” Kyan said. “Births. Funerals. That sort of things. The faith wasn’t much of a religion, from what I understood, more like… a way of living, I guess. I don’t think the Lord of Twilight is supposed to intervene much in our lives. We ask him to guide the dead, and that’s it.”

Dipper snorted. “Huh. I wonder what's the deal with those Bill worshippers. I doubt he was someone who was okay with letting his followers do their own things. He threw tantrums when he wouldn’t get his way.”

“He doesn’t sound like the nicest of guys,” Kyan said with a wince. “Why would people worship him?”

“I can’t say, but…” Dipper sighed. “Bill went after you when you were at your lowest. When you were backed into a corner, when you couldn’t see a way out. Then, he’d say he’d give you what you wanted, whatever it was. Knowledge. Validation. _Fame_. He’d make it so you seemed above other people. Like you mattered more that everyone else.”

Mabel hugged her knees. It was nothing she’d never heard from her brother. After coming home to Piedmont, they had shared a difficult conversation about their experiences with the triangular demon. Still, Dipper’s cold, detached tone sent chills down her back.

“Huh.” Kyan seemed sad. “If that’s the case, then I feel bad for those people. I mean, everyone wants to think that they’re special. Everyone wants to believe they’ve got a place in the universe.”

“Well, maybe I’d feel more sorry for them if they hadn’t tried to capture and murder us,” Dipper said sourly.

Mabel flopped on her back with a groan. As always, the stars peppering the violet sky were breathtaking. Tonight, however, their beauty left her cold. She missed her parents and her friends. She missed _Waddles_. She was stuck in a weird place, with weird people chasing them for weird reasons. Grunkle Stan’s smiles had a fake, joyless quality to them, and Grunkle Ford was acting the way he had last summer, not sleeping and keeping secrets to himself.

It made her sad and scared, but it also made her _angry_ and—

“Wait,” she blurted out, “what if we fight back? If those jerks were gone, then you guys wouldn’t need to hide anymore. And me and my family, we’d be able to get home.”

“I don’t know,” said Kyan. “We tried to fight before. At least, the adults did, I wasn’t exactly part of things…”

“Well, you didn’t have _us_ before!” Mabel jumped to her feet, putting her hands over her hips in a cocky pose. “We survived the Apocalypse and beat a chaos god, didn’t we, Dipdop? We can kick the butts of a few nutcases with a fetish for triangles!”

“ _Yeeeah_ ,” said Dipper. “I don’t think it’ll be that simple.”

“Besides, we need to earn our keep, don’t we?” Mabel said. “You guys helped us so much already, we need to pay it forward!”

Kyan seemed to consider her words carefully. “Do you really thing we might be able to win?”

“Would someone with a face as cute as mine lie to you?” Mabel said, poking at her cheek with one finger. “It’ll be easy-peasy, lemon squeasy!”

“Eezeepee— _what?_ What does that even mean?”

Mabel waved her hand around. “It’ll be a cinch. Piece of cake. Like stealing candy from a baby.”

Kyan looked utterly lost. “… _huh?_ ”

“Mabel, we need to ask Ford and Stan first before we make those kind of plans,” Dipper said.

“Pff!” said Mabel. “They’ll think it’s a great idea! Just wait and see!”

* * *

“Nope,” said Grunkle Stan.

“Absolutely _not_ ,” said Grunkle Ford.

Mabel’s grin soured. She and Dipper had rushed back to their room to call a family meeting, while Kyan went to explain their idea to Yaspa. A teeny-tiny part of Mabel had expected her suggestion to be shot down. She hadn’t expected it to be shot down _so fast_.

“C’mon, you guys!” Mabel protested. “Me an’ Dipper, we’ve been in fights before! We piloted a giant mecha to beat up a bunch of demons, remember?”

“Oh, I remember all too well,” Ford replied. “Which is why I want the two of you nowhere near the action this time.”

“What?” she said. “Why?”

“You really have to ask?” Stan said, sounding almost insulted. “D’you know the number of times we nearly saw you kids die last year? D’you think that was any good for our health? I’m still surprised it didn’t end with a heart attack or two on my part.”

“Oh,” said Mabel. She exchanged a look with Dipper, who grimaced. “Sorry. We didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Ford reassured her.

“Yeah, sure,” Stan said, rolling his eyes. “I keep asking you not to chase trouble, but the moment I turn my back, what do you guys do? Throw yourself headfirst into danger!”

“You guys wouldn’t have defeated Bill if not for us!” Dipper said. “I know you don’t like seeing us in the thick of the action, but—” He quickly shut up when Stan glared at him.

“Ugh, _fine_.” Mabel scrunched up her nose. “We’ll stay here and be bored out of our skulls while you guys become epic heroes of the rebellion.”

Ford sighed. “ _Thank you_. That’s a load off our shoulders.”

Mabel felt a twinge of guilt. Poor Grunkle Ford looked so tired…

“All we need now is to talk to Yaspa,” Ford continued. “See what they need, what resources they can spare us. That sort of things.”

“I’ll make a deal with her,” said Stan. “I can be very charming when I want.”

“I know,” Ford answered, in a strangely flat voice. He was looking at Stan in a very unsettling way, as if he expected an alien parasite to burst out of his chest at any moment.

“And we’ll stay here and protect this place!” Mabel said. “I mean, I’ve survived bullies and monsters scarier than those robe-wearing idiots. And once Dipper knows how to cast spells, those guys really won’t stand a chance!”

Dipper coughed. “Sure, yeah, t-totally…”

“Alright,” Ford said, squeezing Mabel’s shoulder. “That sounds like a plan. Thank you for your support, my dear.”

Mabel beamed back at him. Of course she didn’t tell him she fully intended to step in and take control of the situation the moment he and Stan would get into trouble. And there was no doubt in her mind that her Grunkles _would_ get into trouble. Mabel loved them to bits, but they were big, _big_ dummies sometimes.

Instead, she put on her brightest smile and said, “You’re welcome!”


	11. Chapter 11

It wasn’t the first that Ford had lain in wait for a convoy.

He hadn’t always been honest about the nature of his multiverse adventures while telling them to the children. Of course, Ford had his fair share of stories where he had helped plucky rebels fight against evil empires, cults, corporations or any combination of the former. His dear niece and nephew, however, didn’t know he had sometimes assisted more… _unsavoury_ characters. For one, he had run with a bunch of merry highway robbers some fifteen years ago. To Ford’s defence, they had always stolen from morally reprehensible people, like post-apocalyptic warlords, greedy CEOs or dentists.

As they waited for their target from their vantage point on the cliff, Ford glanced at Stan, wondering if his brother had ever been involved in such an operation. Stan seemed bored out of his skull, as did Zuri. Only Yaspa and their last two accomplices looked remotely apprehensive.

The convoy they were hitting had raided a nearby town, carrying food and riches back to the Temple of Dawn. According to Yaspa, it was a common occurrence, and the villages that refused to offer tribute to the Eye of Dawn paid a heavy price. Yaspa’s plan was to return the stolen goods to the townspeople. Stan had pointedly asked her what they would get in return, but Ford had silenced him with a glare. Stan had raised similar objections in all of their previous missions. Ford had explained they needed to build goodwill for the rebellion, and his brother had retorted, “Well, how much of a rebellion are we gonna be without any supplies or weapons?”

Ford had not answered. He didn’t exactly want Yaspa to know that he agreed with Stan on that point.

“ _Gahhh_ ,” Stan said, rubbing his hands over his face. “How long are we gonna wait? Lady, you sure this is the right spot?”

Yaspa scowled at him, narrowing all five of her eyes. “Don’t make me regret bringing you along. Keep your mouth shut and just do what you’re told.”

The moment she had her back turned, Stan mimed her peeved expression in an exaggerated manner, making Zuri snort.

“Stanley Pines, you’ve just turned sixty,” Ford chided. “Act your age, for once.”

“Ooh, act your age for once, Stanley,” Stan repeated, in a shockingly good impression of his twin. Zuri laughed out loud. “You’re an old man, Stanley, be _mature_ and stuff.”

Thankfully, Ford was saved from more of Stan’s antics by the appearance of a dust cloud in the distance.

Ford strained to get a better look, dearly missing the pair of binoculars he’d left at the Shack. Four hovercraft formed a train, advancing toward the canyon where Ford and the others waited in ambush. Ford readied his gun, aiming at the pile of rocks they had placed on the opposite side of the cliff. The others tested the strength of their ropes, making sure they were properly secured. Ford raised his scarf over the lower part of his face. Stan did the same, muttering over and over, “This is crazy, this is stupid, we’re all gonna die…”

The convoy entered the canyon, and Yaspa shouted, “Now!”

Ford pressed the trigger, and a blue flare burst out of the barrel. With a satisfying _boom_ , rocks came crashing down in the valley below, stopping the convoy dead in its track.

“Oh god,” Stan said, voice going slightly squeaky. “Nope, nope, nope…”

Still, when Ford jumped over the cliff, hands tightly wound around his rope, Stan was right behind him.

Ford landed in the hovercraft at the head of the convoy, letting go of the rope. The fall knocked the air out of his lungs, and pointedly reminded him that he did not have the knees of a twenty-year-old man anymore. Stan’s landing wasn’t as graceful, and Ford heard his brother letting out a string of curses. Yaspa, Zuri and their other companions jumped into the vehicle at the tail end of the train.

Four people were in the hovercraft with Ford and Stan—the pilot, and three guards armed with energy spears. The moment he’d regained his bearings, Ford shot the man closest to him with a stunning charge. Behind him came the sounds of a scuffle; Stan was grappling with the man who had steered the ship. Ford aimed at a second guardsman, preparing to pull the trigger.

From behind, Stan gave a grunt of pain, and Ford’s focus wavered for all of one second. It was all the guardsman in front of him needed to land a hit, grazing Ford on the shoulder. The energy weapon burned away the fabric of his coat and shirt, and Ford’s skin sizzled, blinding him momentarily with pain.

With dim awareness, he heard someone groaning and falling to the ground—was it Stanley or the man he had been fighting? Ford was in no position to check. The man with the spear was attacking him again, this time aided by the third guardsman. Ford evaded the first lunge, grabbing the spear with one hand to tug on it. He struck the man in the gut with one knee, but Ford could not evade the second spear as it swept in the air, hitting Ford on the head.

Ford dropped like a stone, his gun slipping from his grip. Immediately, someone seized him, putting him in a headlock. Ford felt the cold touch of his own gun over his temple.

Through blurred eyes, Ford saw his brother holding up his hands, the hovercraft driver unconscious at his feet. The scarf had slipped from his face, and there was a trail of blood trickling from his mouth. Stan grimaced, before steeling his gaze.

“Let him go,” he said, “or else…”

The man who held Ford actually snorted. “Or _what?_ ”

“Wait…” said the other guardsman. “That face… isn’t that…?”

Stan straightened his spine, his eyes hidden by a light reflecting over his glasses. Then, loudly, _madly_ , he began to laugh.

Ford’s blood turned ice-cold as all strength was sapped from his body. _No. No, no, no, no…_

The two grey-robed goons exchanged a look, clearly taken aback by this sudden change in demeanour. Stan threw them a face-splitting grin, head bowed slightly.

“I thought I _asked_ you something!” he said in a shrill, singsong voice. “Let. Him. _Go_. Are you deaf or what?”

“B-But…” said the man holding Ford.

“W-Why should we listen to _you?_ ” the other said.

“ _Hah!_ You don’t know who I am? I get it, this _vessel_ doesn’t exactly inspire awe, but I’d have figured you’d be smart enough to recognize your one true lord and master! To think you call yourselves followers of mine!”

Stan stalked closer, and his grin grew wider. One of the grey-robed men gave a yelp, stumbling backward.

“N-No,” said the man holding the gun to Ford’s head, “that doesn’t make any sense, that’s just—” 

“You don’t get it, do ya? One snap of the fingers and—” Stan made a popping sound with his mouth, “— _gone!_ Nothing left but dust. Do _you_ want to be just a pile of dust, buddy?”

The cultist dropped Ford, suddenly panicked. “M’lord, _no_ , please don’t kill me!”

And Stan punched him in the jaw.

The other grey-robed man watching his companion fall without budging an inch, struck dumb by this sudden turn of events. Before he could react, Stan whirled on him, knocking him out with another jab.

Stan panted, wiping the blood off his mouth. “Oh shit! Can’t believe that worked! They’re really _that_ dumb!” He held out a hand to Ford. “You alright, Pointdexter?”

Ford recoiled from Stan’s offered hand. His gaze snapped to his brother’s face. Worried brown eyes peered back at him.

“Stanford?” Stan said. “C’mon, it’s me! It was just a trick, nothing more!”

Ford dared not break eye contact. Without saying anything—and without taking Stan’s hand—he stood on wobbly feet. Slowly, the warmth was spreading back to his veins. Still, his hands kept shaking.

“Alright?” Stan said with a distraught smile. “We good to go?”

Ford simply looked at him, heart thumping in his ears. Brown eyes, without any trace of yellow. Brown eyes, familiar eyes. Eyes like his mother’s, like Dipper’s, like Mabel’s. The same eyes he saw when staring in a mirror

“Stanford? C’mon, jus’ say something, you’re startin’ to freak me out!”

In the distance, Ford heard Yaspa calling for a retreat. It seemed she and the others had managed to overpower the men guarding the other vehicles. Yaspa barked more orders, instructing them to load one hovercraft with all the supplies they could find. 

Ford inhaled deeply. Brown eyes, not yellow. He breathed in and out. Brown eyes, Stan’s eyes, his _twin’s_ eyes.

“Yes,” he croaked, managing a nod. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Yaspa had hoped for a hero’s welcome. Instead, they only found empty-eyed survivors amidst smouldering ruins.

The villagers were still putting out fires when Ford steered the stolen hovercraft into town. Many screamed and ran away at the sight of the vehicle, while others remained rooted to their spot, as if quietly resigned to whatever additional horror the world was about to unleash on them. To Yaspa’s credit, she had the situation under control in a matter of minutes. By the time the flames had died down, all of Ford’s muscles were in agony from carrying rubble and unconscious bodies.

As Stan and Zuri loaded the last of the wounded on the hovercraft, Ford approached Yaspa. The grim line of her mouth grew thinner as she turned to face him.

“How many casualties do we have?” Ford asked. “There’s quite a lot of wounded, but I’ve seen no bodies…”

“The Eye of Dawn don’t kill people,” Yaspa answered. “Wanton destruction isn't their usual way to operate. Wouldn’t want to murder any potential convert, you see…”

“That’s… something of a relief,” said Ford. Still, her words brought no true comfort, only a dull pang in his chest. “Should we get going, then?”

Yaspa’s face showed a rare hint of sadness. “Yes. Let’s go.”

The children were asleep when Ford and the others came back to the base. Stan immediately went to bed, saying, “Welp, I’m getting too old for that shit.”

Ford sat on his cot as well, relieved to see the children sleeping so peacefully. He was in no state to be bombarded by their questions. He treated his wound, lost in thought. Stan hadn’t exactly apologized for his little stunt, though he certainly seemed regretful. Still, Ford remained awake through the night, keeping a close eye on him.

Much like he had done the previous night, and the one that had come before, and so on and so forth.

Not for the first time, Ford cursed his old age. As a young man, he’d endured many sleepless nights with barely—well, with _acceptable_ consequences. Now every part of his body protested being treated that way.

There was also this sense of shame lurking in the pit of his stomach. Neither Stan nor the twins knew he forced himself awake while they slept. They would probably find his behaviour a bit unsettling. Crazy, even. Then again, Ford had been naïve to think there was a better word to describe him.

Crazy Uncle Ford, who stayed up all night to watch over his family like a creep. Crazy Uncle Ford, who had caused all that mess in the first place because he’d been so eager to believe he was better than everyone else.

Crazy Uncle Ford, who had worked out a dozen strategies in the event his brother was being possessed by a demon.

Ford let out a joyless chuckle. How would he answer if Stan were to wake up seeing him with his gun within reach? ‘Oh, hello, dear brother, I just want to be sure you don’t murder us all in our sleep if my worst enemy ever takes over your body’ just wouldn’t cut it.

Thankfully, Stan slept soundly every night.

Dipper had told Ford that he was free to read or use his journal whenever he felt like it, and so Ford spent the long hours of the night catching up with the boy's entries. As always, his nephew was a keen observer; it was evident that he had spent a fair amount of time questioning Yaspa’s people on a variety of subjects.

For one, the inhabitants of Dimension 52 had no name for their species, simply calling themselves the ‘people’ or jemtlacal in their language. They gained more eyes as they aged, most adults having five of them; Ford supposed it was an adaptation to the low light environment in which they had evolved. Magic could be used by anyone, but few bothered to learn the necessary spells. Dimensional travel had once been common; the practice had stopped when the Eye of Dawn had seized control of the capital and destroyed Jheselbraum’s temple.

Ford kept reading, fascinated by Dipper’s observations. Apparently, mated pairs in Mictlan rarely had more than one child. Their language had words for brother, sister or sibling, but those terms were so scarcely used that many people had never even heard them spoken aloud. Multiple births were considered to be biologically impossible for their species. Mabel had been horrified by this discovery, writing, _No twins!_ _And_ _no uncles or aunties either! That’s so sad!_ She had punctuated her addition with several frowning faces.

Leafing through the journal, Ford found a drawing he’d made of the alpaca-like animal they had seen in the market; Mabel had added several little hearts pointing to Ford’s sketch, writing, _Sooo cute!_ Next to his illustration of the valley, Dipper had noted several theories pertaining to the fluorescent nature of Mictlan plant life. Last of all, he came upon a portrait of Jheselbraum—or rather, what little he remembered of her face. Mabel had left several enthusiastic comments, some of which made him raise an eyebrow. She seemed to believe the Oracle had been his ‘space girlfriend’, which was… both disconcerting and amusing. Ford had always wondered why people were so invested in the love lives of others, but in Mabel’s case it was particularly baffling.

It got harder and harder to stay awake as the hours went by. Without meaning to, Ford dozed off, lulled to sleep by the children’s charming commentary. When he finally startled awake, he found the others up and about as well.

Stan was talking to the twins in low tones. It took Ford some time to understand that he was telling them about the events of the previous day. The children were silent, uncharacteristically so. Ford didn’t move from his cot, simply listening.

Eventually, a young, blue-skinned face peered into their room. “Oh,” said Kyan. “You’re all awake. H-How are you feeling?”

As if on cue, Stan and both twins turned to Ford. He looked away, uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

“I’m as fine as the circumstances will allow,” Ford said. “What about the townspeople we rescued? Are they…?”

“W-We’ve stabilized the wounded, at least. The others, well… everyone’s in shock, I’d say.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Stan said. “This, uh, happens often? Those Eye of Dawn guys torching towns, I mean?”

Kyan shook his head. “No… but it’s been happening more frequently…”

“An’ people stand for this crap?”

“I don’t think their followers are aware of it,” Kyan answered, somewhat dully.

“Or maybe it’s jus’ nicer shoving your head in the sand,” Stan muttered, sounding disgusted.

A faint sound was coming from out of the room, like people singing. Mabel hopped over to Kyan, brightly asking him, “What’s that? Is there like, a choir meeting every week and no one told us?”

“Oh, that’s just a prayer for the lost,” Kyan said. “Y-You guys can come join us, if you want. T-That’s why I came to see you, actually…”

“A religious ceremony, you say?” Ford said. Despite the severity of the situation, his curiosity was piqued. “It’s kind of you to invite us. I’d be honoured to attend.”

They followed Kyan outside. The tunnels were unusually empty; Ford figured everyone was probably participating in the ritual Kyan had mentioned.

“Wait, is there something special we need to do at this ceremony?” Dipper said. “I don’t want us to ruin everything ‘cause we don’t know how it’s supposed to go.”

“Not really,” Kyan said. “It’s not really a ritual... it's more like, a moment of contemplation or something. Yaspa wanted to do something to help those villagers. To get them some comfort.”

Dipper and Mabel’s faces crumpled. Even Stan appeared unusually grim.

Finally, Kyan led them to a large, cavernous room. Stalactites and stalagmites cast long shadows everywhere, hinting that this part of the tunnel complex had not been hollowed out like the rest of the rebels’ hideout. Across from Ford and the others, someone had built a platform; Yaspa stood at its centre, flanked by two great torches. A few dozen people stood before this altar of sort, eyes closed, heads bowed. Kyan went to join them, taking place next to his sister.

“Sheesh, this is cheerful,” Stan said. “Almost like a funeral.” He frowned. “Huh. When was the last time I’ve ever been to a funeral?”

“When Bubbe Rachel died, probably,” Ford mused. “We were twelve, I think?”

Stan scratched the back of his head, somewhat sheepishly. “Not for me… I remember going to Ma’s funeral like, twenty, twenty-five years ago? And Shermie died when the kids were five. Heart attack, if I recall right.”

“Oh,” Ford said, feeling a dull pang. Sometimes he forgot his parents and elder brother had died in the thirty-year span he’d been lost in the multiverse. He had been all but estranged from his family when the portal incident had happened, yet Ford was saddened that he had not properly said goodbye to his mother and brother. As for his father… it was petty to admit, but Ford was glad the old man had kicked the bucket. If he ever visited his tomb, it would be to get roaringly drunk and shout curses in its general vicinity. Both Pines brothers were nothing like the sons Filbrick Pines wanted, and they were better men for it.

“Is his tongue supposed to stick out like that?” Mabel whispered.

Ford looked at what she was pointing. There was a large tapestry behind Yaspa, depicting a pink-skinned salamander with frilly gills. Strange symbols were arrayed around him…

“Wait, didn’t you used to have one of these back at the Shack?” Dipper asked Stan in low tones.

Stan rubbed at his jaw. “Yeah… now that you mention it, I did…”

“I remember!” Mabel said. “He was my pet lobster’s tank mate!”

“You had a pet lobster?” Ford asked, slightly dumbfounded.

“Not for long,” Mabel said. “Just had him for a couple of days, and then, poof! He just plain disappeared!”

“Listen, muffin,” Stan said, “not sure how to break it to ya, but… your lobster died.”

Mabel gasped. “No way! And you never told me?”

“You can put a saltwater animal in a freshwater tank,” Ford muttered.

Stan was sweating bullets now. “It gets worse. Remember when I made that seafood pasta...?”

“OH! Grunkle Stan, you _monster!_ ”

“Where did you get an axolotl anyway?” Ford asked.

“I dunno. He was there when I moved in. I always thought he was one of your weird pets.”

Ford frowned. “Stanley, that’s ludicrous. An axolotl can’t live up to thirty years.”

“How did he die, anyway?” Dipper asked. “He wasn’t around anymore when we left Gravity Falls, was he?”

“Huh,” said Stan. “That’s weird. Can’t remember what happened to ‘im.”

Ford must have made what Mabel called his ‘sad owl face’ since she immediately chose to change the subject. “What are those weird symbols around him?”

“Who knows?” Ford said. “If only I could get a chance to work out their meaning…”

“I’ll copy them in my journal after the ceremony,” said Dipper. “Maybe Kyan can tell us what they mean.”

Mabel snorted, as if she was laughing at some inside joke. Dipper just rolled his eyes, before heading toward Kyan and Zuri. Ford and Stan kept apart from the crowd; it still felt like they were intruding, somehow. Ford’s translator could not pick up what Yaspa and the others were singing. It was a low, mournful wail. Ford suspected it might just have no lyrics. Still, the meaning of their lament remained clear. Kyan had the truth of it when he’d described it as a prayer for the lost.

Finally, Yaspa spoke, “For those who have begun the great journey.”

“For those who have begun the great journey,” the crowd repeated.

“In a different form, we will meet again,” Yaspa continued.

“In a different time, one knows not when,” the crowd added. “In a different world, one knows not where.”

“We will meet again,” Yaspa repeated, more firmly.

“… _some sunny day_ ,” someone hummed to Ford’s right. Stan was staring ahead, his gaze strangely blank.

Ford let out a choked sound, putting a hand over his mouth.

“Grunkle Ford?” said Mabel. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re going to be sick…”

To his great horror, everyone turned to look at him. Some people seemed confused, others regarded him with concern. Stan, for his part, only gazed back with an empty expression.

Ford rushed out of the room.

He ran and ran, not looking behind him, not caring where his legs were taking him. Discordant notes of piano rang in his mind, accompanied by a voice as charming as nails on a chalkboard. He could still picture the nightmare that had haunted him some nights past, could still see Stan standing at the bow of their ship, could still hear him singing _that_ song.

Ford had rationalized it as the delusion of a stressed mind, as the manifestation of all his fears. Bill could not still live in Stan’s brain, he just _couldn’t_.

And _yet_ …

Why else would Stan sing that song? The song Bill Cipher had sung before he’d tortured Ford, the song he'd sung before he'd tried to murder all of his family?

The song that seemed like a secret promise to torment Ford until the end of his days?

Ford came to a sudden halt. A gust of wind whipped at his face, startling him to a stop. Unknowingly, he had run to the secret spot the children had shown him. The valley unfurled in front of his eyes, peaceful and still. Ford inhaled deeply, relishing in the fresh crispness of the mountain air.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost believe he was hiking in the woods back home. It was childish to play pretend, but Ford did it anyway, taking comfort in the sounds and smells of the outdoors. After a while, his crazed heartbeat slowed down.

From behind him came the sounds of footsteps.

Ford whirled on his feet, gun at the ready.

“Whoa!” said a familiar voice. Stan had put his hands in the air. “Easy there! Didn’t mean to startle ya!”

Without a word, Ford stalked closer, forcing his gaze into Stan’s eyes. His brother grimaced, but otherwise did not look away. Brown eyes, without a trace of yellow. Ford relaxed, ever so slightly.

“You okay?” Stan said. “What happened back there?”

“I’m fine,” Ford said, putting his gun away.

Stan crossed his arms, one of his eyes twitching. “ _Oy_. That was bad. Even Soos coulda told you were lying. Really, what’s wrong?”

It was childish to let Stan have a taste of his own medicine, but Ford was sleep-deprived; he’d earned the right to be a little petty. “I said I’m _fine_. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“’kay,” said Stan. “No need to get uppity with me.”

“Hmph.” Ford moved away, hoping to go back to his silent contemplation of the valley, but he froze in his tracks. A part of him wondered—no, _feared_ —what would happen if he turned his back to Stan.

His brother didn’t seem to note Ford’s unease. Instead, Stan put his hands into his pockets, almost nonchalantly. “Hey, bro. You know what dumb thing still gets me? What makes me really, _really_ mad?”

Ford waited a bit. As Stan gave no response, he asked, “No. What is it?”

“I’m still mad those assholes crashed our party. I mean, the first birthday cake I’ve had in more than forty years, and I can’t even have a bite?” There was a silence, and then Stan added, “I didn’t even get to give you your birthday present.”

“My _what?_ ” His brother would have admitted to taking Hula-Hoop classes, and Ford wouldn’t have been as surprised. “You bought a birthday present for me?”

“Yep. Paid Soos to have him order something on the Internet. So you could have it by the time we’d arrive at the Shack, y’know.” Stan kicked at the ground. “Might as well tell you what it is, huh?”

“You really don’t need to,” Ford said, a bit precipitately, “I’ll find out when we get back—”

“A new fishing rod,” Stan said, completely ignoring Ford’s interruption. “A _fancy_ one, mind you. So you could come with us on family fishing trips. Even made you a stupid little hat, like the ones I gave the kids last summer. With your name stitched on it an’ all.” He coughed, evading Ford’s gaze. “Y’know, just so your dumb face could look even dumber.”

And just like that, something heavy seemed to have been lifted from Ford’s heart. “Well, _I’m_ not saying what I bought for you,” he said, almost petulantly. “It’ll be a surprise for when we get home.”

“You got me something?” Stan said, grinning. “I mean, what am I going to do with another material possession?”

Ford shot him a dumbfounded look, and Stan chuckled in response.

“Alright, alright, that one was bad,” Stan said. “Still, I’ve been thinking lately…”

“Setting a new precedent,” Ford said, managing half a smile.

“Shut up, nerd. What I meant is… I’ve been thinking back on moments like, the twins being born or me handing the Shack over to Soos. My memory’s a mess, sure, but those moments just _stick_ with me, y’know? It makes me realize that I want to go on ‘cause I want to see more of these, well, you’d call them milestones, I guess.” Stan’s eyes grew wistful. “The kids graduating. Them gettin’ married, maybe having kids of their own. That sort of thing.”

There was another uncomfortable silence. Stan’s eyes were fixed on the unfamiliar stars above.

“Makes me realize the difference between livin’ and survivin’, y’know? I was fine with just the latter for so long, I didn’t even think the former was even an option.”

“I’ll get you home,” Ford said, without hesitation. “I swear it, Stan. You’ll see those moments. You’ll _make_ those memories.”

“Yeah?” Stan turned to look at him. “C’mon, Sixer, no need to sound so dramatic. This is just me being a sap in my old age.”

“No. I think you’re being very wise cherishing those moments.”

After all, Ford thought with a dull pang, who knew how long Stan would be able to hang on to those memories?

Of course he did not say this aloud to Stan. Instead, he walked to his brother’s side. “We’ll _both_ get home. And I’ll put on that stupid fishing hat as much as you want if that’s what you need to be happy.”

“You really don’t have any self-respect, do ya?”

“That’s a bit ‘pot calls kettle’.”

“Walked into that one, huh? Man, what a pair we are.”

Ford smiled. “What a pair indeed.” He moved his hand to put it on Stan’s shoulder.

“Say, you think he’s still there? Somewhere in my brain, ready to take over?”

Ford froze, hand still hovering in the air.

He found himself staring into a face that very much resembled his own. Yet, suddenly all he could see was the grinning, golden-eyed demon from his nightmares.

_(See? Think of all the trouble you could have avoided with just one well-placed bullet!)_

Without realizing, Ford had retracted his hand. Stan seemed to note his hesitation, and his brow furrowed. Ford felt a burst of shame at the hint of disappointment showing on his face.

“Ford?” Stan muttered. “C’mon, be honest with me…”

Ford opened his mouth to answer, and suddenly the lie caught in his throat before he could say it. It would have been so easy to feign certitude to put Stan’s worries at ease.

But Stan had gathered enough courage to reach out to him, showing the soft, vulnerable heart hiding behind all that bluster. If Stan could be that brave, then so could Ford.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know, Stan. I _want_ to believe he’s gone, but…”

“Okay,” Stan said, in a slightly choked voice. “You’re really freaking out, aren’tcha? You don’t want to show it in front of the kids, but you are.”

Ford took a deep breath. “Yes. I’m _terrified_ , Stan. I nearly killed you once, I don’t think I can do it again.”

“Yeah. That’s what I figured.” Stan cleared his throat. “How do we make sure he doesn’t come back then?”

Ford inhaled and exhaled again, trying to get his brain to settle down. Rational thought and deep, calming breaths. Once, he’d told Fiddleford that these two things were the greatest enemies of an anxious mind. Clearly, he needed to apply this lesson to himself.

He frowned, running a hand along his jaw. “The Eye of Dawn thinks they need to do _something_ to bring him back, it's plain to see. It must be some kind of procedure, maybe, or even a ritual. If they believed he could come back without their help, then they would have simply let things run their course.”

Stan shuddered. “Let things run their course. That’s a nice way of sayin’ he would have made me his meat puppet.”

“If he is still in your mind, then something is clearly stopping him from doing so,” Ford added, in a sudden realization. “He wouldn’t have just waited nicely for your permission.”

“ _If_ he is in my mind. You think he might not be there? You think he might be really dead?”

“I hope so. I would certainly sleep better at night if he was truly gone.”

“But you’re not sure. You think he might be still in there… just waitin’…”

Ford forced down a bout of nausea, suddenly unable to look Stan in the eye. “I’m sorry, it’s just… sometimes, you just act like him. Your mannerisms. The way you speak. Hell, even the _nicknames_ you use. You remind me of him, Stanley. And he reminded me of _you_.”

Stan looked as if Ford had just slapped him. “Really? I’m like him?”

“I think it must be one of the reasons why I trusted him so easily.” A sour taste invaded Ford’s mouth as he recalled a disturbing possibility. “Or maybe he acted that way to earn my trust. He had access to all of my memories, after all. He certainly knew just how lonely I was without you. Just how I _missed_ you.”

“Holy _hell_ …” Stan had gone white as a sheet. “You… you never told me that…”

“Would you intentionally admit someone took advantage of you in such an obvious manner?” Ford said, slightly irked. “Especially if it took you a ridiculous amount of time to realize you were being deceived?”

“ _Dammit_ , Ford!” Stan exclaimed. “Do you even hear what you’re sayin’? How is any of this your fault? He tricked you! Shit, he did worse than that! No wonder you acted the way you did thirty years ago!”

 _You don’t know what I’m up against!_ Ford remembered screaming at him. _What I’ve been through!_

Of course Stan hadn’t known. It would have been so easy to grab his journal and show Stan the blood-splattered pages Ford had written about Bill. It would have been so easy to drag Stan back to town and show him the raving madman who once had been Ford’s best friend.

It would have been so easy to lift his sleeves and show Stan the fresh scars and bruises left by the demon every time he had come for a ‘visit’.

“Shit,” Stan said. “If only I’d known back then…”

“Water under the bridge,” Ford said. “Don’t beat yourself over what-ifs.”

“Same goes for you, pal,” Stan said with a snort.

They were silent for a while. Ford closed his eyes, taking comfort in the feeling of the wind over his face. It wasn’t quite like the soothing breeze of the sea, but for now it would have to do.

Eventually, he said, “Thank you, Stan. For listening. And for not running away screaming.”

“What do you take me for?” Stan said, in a show of gruffness. “I’ve faced worse, believe me.”

Ford snorted. It wasn’t exactly a laugh, but it was getting there. Something resembling hope had sprouted in his heart; yes, maybe Bill was stuck somewhere in Stan’s mind, yes, maybe Ford’s lifelong enemy could end up possessing his only twin brother.

And yet, he _hadn’t_.

It wasn’t much, but Ford had spent thirty years working with less.

“Anyway, guy sounds like a right bastard,” Stan said. “I’m glad I erased him from existence then.”

Ford found himself smiling. “Erased him from existence. That’s oddly poetic coming from you.”

Stan shrugged. “I dunno. For some reason, it just feels… _right_ , putting it that way. Which is _weird_ , ‘cause I don’t even remember how I pulled it off in the first place.”

Ford put a hand on his shoulder. “Just trust in your gut feeling, then. I’ve ignored intuition in favour of pure intellect for most of my life, and it cost me dearly.”

“You’re tellin’ the guy who never plans for anythin’ and who’s been through all kinds of shit as a result, y’know.” Still, Stan said it with a wry grin.

“Maybe we should combine our two approaches,” Ford said, slightly tongue-in-cheek. “It would certainly lead to fewer bad life choices on both of our parts.”

Stan cocked his head, looking utterly bewildered. Ford stared back with the most serious expression he could muster. Not a second later, they were both laughing out loud, tears forming in the creak of their eyes.


	12. Chapter 12

The last time Wendy had seen the town hall so packed was during the announcement of the mayoral race.

She had to hand it to Pacifica; the girl sure knew how to make herself look important and shame people into following her lead. It helped that Wendy had successfully conned the mayor into helping them. Poor Tyler was nursing an epic crush on her dad, which made him rather susceptible to her manipulations.

The gathered townsfolk believed the meeting was about the next edition of Pioneer Day. A look of confusion settled on every face as Wendy, Pacifica and Soos took the stage rather than the mayor. Bewilderment soon gave way to unease as Soos told them why they had called for a town meeting; he recounted the Pines brothers’ disastrous birthday party, before explaining how their attempt to repair the dimensional portal had been thwarted by the government agents and their investigation.

“And that’s why we came to see all of you dudes!” Soos finished, with a big, hopeful grin. “To ask for your help and get the Pines back home!”

Mayor Tyler’s mouth was stuck in a nervous smile. “Thank you, Soos. I understand you’re stuck in quite the pickle, but… why should we make those people leave? They’re working for the government. They’re doing this for our own good, aren't they?”

“Oh, yeah?” Wendy snapped. “You’re saying they evicted Soos and his family out of the Shack ‘for their own good’?”

Tyler had the decency to look ashamed. “Well, I’m sure it’s just temporary, once they find that everything is in order, they’ll just leave… right?”

“That’s the thing, dude,” Soos said. “Everything’s _not_ in order. If they keep searching the Shack, they might find out about Dr. Pines’ research.”

“Dr. Pines?” someone in the crowd asked.

“Stan’s shady brother!” Wendy’s friend Thompson said. “You know, the one who told us the truth about what happened last summ—”

Tyler interrupted him with a forced bout of laughter. “What’s that? I don’t remember anything happening last summer! Do any of you good people know what he’s talking about?”

He was answered by a chorus of, “Nope!”, “Doesn’t ring no bells!”, and of course, “Never mind all that!”

Wendy would have never thought that four simple words could summon such hatred in her. Yet, she saw red. “ _You cowardly pieces of shit!_ ” she screamed. “ _Get your heads out of your asses for once!”_

Her outburst stunned the whole of the room into silence. Poor Tyler looked like he was about to cry, but Wendy was past the point of caring.

“You’re really sticking with the head-in-the-sand approach, are you?” Pacifica said.

“What other choices do we have?” Tyler said. His words brought nods and murmurs of assent from the crowd.

“The choice to properly cope with the shitty things that happened instead of pretending everything’s all sunshine and rainbows!” Wendy said.

“She’s right!” Soos added. “Don’t you realize you’re all forgetting the good that’s happened, too? Durland, don’t you want to remember the way your hubby rescued you in Bill’s Fearamid? The whole thing was straight out of an action movie, dude!”

Deputy Edwin Durland-Blubs’ eyes filled with stars. “Of course I don’t! Jus’ thinkin’ about it still makes me feels all fuzzy inside!”

“Darling!” Sheriff Daryl Blubs-Durland said, his own eyes watering.

“And you!” Wendy said, pointing at the mayor. “My brothers said you actually talked back to Bill when he first came out of the dimensional tear. You told him to get the hell away from our town! Seriously, dude, that takes balls!”

“I was just doing my job,” Tyler answered, cheeks reddening. “ _Someone_ had to do it.”

“Yeah?” said Pacifica. “And now that we need you guys to make a stand again, none of you are up to it? You’re just gonna let us kids deal with everything?” She made a noise of irritation. “ _Typical_.”

“There shouldn’t be anything for us to deal with,” Tyler said. “Like I said, we can just let those nice government people do their jobs and go home, right? There doesn’t have to be a fight.”

“That’s not true!” Wendy said. “These guys drew first blood! None of you want justice for Soos and his family?”

Her words were met by murmurs from the crowd, and a loud, “YEAH!” from Wendy’s brothers.

“It’s not all that’s at stake!” Soos continued. “Mr. Pines and his family need our help! Are you really gonna turn your back on the town’s heroes?”

“From what I’ve heard, they were kinda responsible for the Apocalypse in the first place!” someone yelled.

“Robbie, so help me, if you don’t keep your damn mouth shut, I’m gonna bust both of your kneecaps!” Wendy shouted back.

She felt a hint of satisfaction when he gave a choked yelp in response.

“I don’t mind helping the Pines,” Susan from the diner said. “Loyal customers, that lot.”

“But what are we even supposed to do?” a certain whiny voice whined. Wendy groaned. Who had let Toby Determined inside the building? “W-We’re not heroes, we’re just normal, _boring_ people!”

Pacifica smiled in vindication. “And that’s how we’ll win. By being normal, boring people.”

There was another stunned silence. Wendy rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighing. She loved her hometown, and (most of) its quirky denizens, but man were those guys _dumb_.

“Huh?” said that guy who always wore shirts with the American flag. “What’s that s’posed to say?”

Pacifica looked like she was stifling a scream. After taking a deep breath, she explained, “By being _aggressively_ average. That can’t be hard for you lot, can it?”

“So no supernatural shenanigans,” Wendy said. “No cute character quirks. Just your average town, filled with average people.”

“Huh,” said Mayor Tyler. “That doesn’t sound too bad, actually.”

“So that ‘Never mind all that’ nonsense?” Pacifica said. “ _Weaponize_ it. When those people start asking question about the shady stuff Stan Pines was up to last summer, lie to their faces. Make it so he’s an exemplary citizen, the town darling, the man who brings in the tourists and their money.”

The whole of the crowd burst out in laughter. “Stan, an exemplary citizen?” someone said, while another added, “That might be asking too much of us!”

“Ugh!” Pacifica said, prompting more chuckles from the townspeople.

“That’s a tall order, yes, but I think we can all manage,” said Tyler. “I was afraid you kids wanted us to be violent or something!”

Wendy reined in the wish to say she was still considering that option.

“Alright, dudes and dudettes!” Soos said, punching in the air. “Let’s pull a con to make Stan proud!”

To Wendy’s surprise, everyone actually cheered. Something bubbled in her chest, a light and airy sense of relief. Soon, the townspeople were sharing excited suggestions. These guys weren’t fighters, but they wouldn’t let one of their own hanging, let alone the four heroes who had saved them from a demonic invasion.

Soos raised a fist, and Wendy bumped it with a lazy grin.

“Nice job, people,” she told her partners-in-crime. “Phase One of the plan’s done. On to Phase Two?”

Pacifica grimaced. “It won’t be as easy, but, yes, on to Phase Two.”

* * *

Their second meeting of the day was in a significantly stranger place.

Wendy had never been in the Multibear’s cavern before, and the lumberjack in her liked the minimalist look of the place. The great beast had also helped them contact the other creatures of the forest or, at least, those with enough sense to stay in company of humans without trying to make a meal out of them.

None of Gravity Falls’ strangest citizens seemed happy to be stuck together in this cramped space. The gnomes complained about the manotaurs, who complained about the unicorns, who complained about _Wendy_ (she covertly sent them the middle finger when no one else was looking). All sorts of little critters skittered at their feet, and Wendy nearly kicked a leprecorn by accident. She also had to force down an urge to grab a plaidypus and bring him home (those guys were definitely the cutest things she'd ever seen).

Pacifica’s new weird little pet had come along for the ride. She had actually put a collar on her llamasaur, one studded with freakin’ _diamonds_. The critter didn’t seem to mind, and frankly, part of Wendy thought it was a bit metal that the once prissy little princess went around with an alien dino on a leash.

When the place was finally filled to the brim, Soos recounted the happenings of the past few weeks, in a way that tended to ramble in some places. Wendy could see that the crowd’s interest was fading fast. She herself was starting to nod off when Pacifica came forward. She tugged on the llamasaur’s leash, and the creature let out a piercing shriek, grabbing everyone’s attention.

“What Soos means to say,” Pacifica began, “is that the Mystery Shack has been taken over by government agents.”

“Gover-what now?” Jeff the gnome asked.

“Some noisy types,” Wendy explained. “Suffice to say, they’re here to prove that creatures like you exist.”

“ _Why?_ ” boomed one of the manotaurs. “ _It’s not like we’re hidin’ or sumthin’!_ ”

“I mean,” Jeff continued, “we kind of _are_ , but the point is that no one would be dumb enough to think that we don’t exist.” He gave a pause, before adding, “Right?”

“The rest of the world isn’t like Gravity Falls,” Pacifica said. “So yeah, most people don’t even know creatures like you are a thing. In their eyes, you only exist in fairytale stories they tell children.”

Her words were met with angered mutters. One gnome even exclaimed, “Oh, come on! Stories for children?”

Pacifica waited for everyone to calm down before speaking again. “Yes, well, you’d be considered freaks of nature by anyone outside of town. No amount of whining is going to change that.”

Again, sputters and shouts filled Multibear’s cave. After a while, Wendy cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Hey, SHUT IT! We’re not finished!”

“Ugh!” Jeff the gnome said. “Then stop beating around the bush and tell us why we’re here!”

“Easy,” said Wendy. “We want those guys gone. And the only way to pull it off is by pretending none of you exist and making them look like total dunces.”

Pacifica pointed at the crowd with a perfectly manicured finger. “So no going into town to steal Susan’s pies.” The gnomes grumbled. “No arm wrestling match with the local bikers.” The manotaurs muttered. “No following people around asking them to ‘hey, _listen’_.” The fairies fidgeted.

“What about karaoke nights?” Multibear asked, sorrowfully.

“No. Karaoke. _Nights_.”

“That’s it?” Jeff said, as everyone began to whisper among themselves. “You made us go all through this trouble just to _ban_ us from town? Well, what if we don’t want to? You’re _humans_ , you can’t tell us what to do!”

“Fine by me,” Pacifica said, cool as ice. “If you want to end up being dissected for the sake of science, be my guest.”

“Dis-what now?” a gnome shouted.

“Cutting you open to see what’s inside of you,” Wendy said. It was a bit of a dick move, but she did snort when the crowd started to panic as a result.

“They _wouldn’t_ ,” Jeff said, face going paler. “We’re p-people!”

“Not to these guys,” Wendy said, putting on her nastiest grin. “To them, you’re _specimens_.”

“ _We should break all of their bones!_ ” Chutzpar shouted, and his fellow manotaurs roared in agreement. “ _That would make them leave!_ ”

“They’d come back with more people, you bovine-brained nitwit!” Jeff retorted.

“ _What d’you call me, pipsqueak?_ ” Chutzpar roared, jabbing a finger that was as big as the gnome’s entire body.

“Guys, GUYS!” Wendy yelled. “We’re on the same team! Take it down a notch!”

Fortunately, the clamour died down. Soos opened his arms, giving the crowd a tentative smile before saying, “So, you understand what’s at stake, right? Can we count on you, dudes?”

Wendy held her breath. Those guys wouldn’t be dumb enough to refuse such a perfectly adequate suggestion, would they?

“Oh, sure, why not,” Jeff eventually said. Behind him, the other gnomes were nodding and making squeaky sounds of assent. “It’s not like we actually like humans anyway.”

“ _Hiding is the way of the COWARD, and we’re too MANLY to—_ ”

“You will do as these children ask,” Multibear cut him off. He sounded like a stern high school teacher, which was _wild_ in Wendy’s opinion. “To protect the whole of the forest, yes, but also in recognition of the role they played in saving our lives last summer.”

Wendy sighed in relief as the manotaurs grumbled and fell silent. Maybe it came from a shared hatred of any source of authority. Maybe it was the fact that they were all survivors of Weirdmageddon. Or maybe it was simply that they loved their weird little corner of the world as much as their human counterparts did.

Still, it warmed Wendy’s heart to have the whole of Gravity Falls on their side.

When they were finally outside the cavern, Soos took out his walky-talky, saying excitedly, “Guys! We did it!”

“Good job, kiddos!” McGucket’s voice came through the receiver, “So, we’re done with Phase One and Phase Two?”

“Yep!” Soos said. “On to Phase Three?”

Wendy could almost sense the old man grinning from his end. “Eyup. On to Phase Three.”

* * *

Despite their harrowing circumstances, a part of Ford found it thrilling to be back in the action.

These past few days, they had gone on more missions, intercepting raiding parties to steal supplies. In addition, Stan had finally convinced Yaspa to take a more… _aggressive_ approach when dealing with their opponents.

“Those Eye of Dawn guys are good for posturing, but not much else,” he had told her. “Deep down, they’re _cowards_. Give people the means to fight back, and they’ll show these bullies who’s boss, I tell ya.”

It was a risky gamble, one that could lead to much heartache if things went wrong. Still, Yaspa had agreed to his proposition with a grim nod, hinting to how desperate she had become.

And so they toured the nearby villages, teaching the townspeople how to defend themselves. To Ford’s relief, Stan’s assessment was spot-on. When faced with mob of angry peasants with pitchforks, the raiders were nowhere as cocky as they once had been, often panicking and scattering to the four winds.

Tonight was not any different. Stan punctuated each of his punch with a quip, giving a bark of manic laughter once in a while. For his part, Ford kept silent as he beat the snot out of the grey-robed goons. He did, however, sneak in some of the flourishes the children had suggested into his fighting style. Occasionally, he could hear Stan shouting things along the lines of, “ _Poser!_ ” or “ _Neeerd!_ ”

The two brothers soon found themselves in front of the same target, a short, weedy young man who was holding his spear the wrong way. For a moment, Ford felt a hint of pity for the poor fellow—but only for a moment.

“Please, sir!” he said. “I-I just joined! Don’t hurt me!”

“Yeah?” Stan said, fists still raised in the air. “So what? Are we s’posed to go easy on ya?”

“I just wanted to be popular with girls!” the young man whined. “There was this guy at one of Lord Tappaz’s rallies, he said—”

“You think girls would want some wet noodle who can’t even stick to his convictions? Or worse, a _bully?_ ” Stan snorted. “Pal, you got a lot to learn about women…”

“Oh,” the man said. “W-What should I do, then?”

“Be the underdog! Fight against the power! That’s sure to get you some gals moonin’ over ya.”

“R-Really?”

“C’mon, look at me, kid. Would a face as handsome as mine ever lie?”

The young man hesitated. “I-I wouldn’t know, sir…”

Stan pretended to lunge at him, making the grey-robed man scream and fall on his behind as a result. Ford’s brother laughed. “Hah! Relax, kid, I’m feeling—what is that fancy-schmancy word? Magnanimous? Anyway, run along before I change my mind, buster.”

With a yelp, the guy jumped to his feet, scampering in the opposite direction. Soon, he was nothing but a pathetic speck on the horizon. Meanwhile, cheers were erupting from everywhere; the villagers were celebrating their victory, hoisting the members of Yaspa’s group on their shoulders. Stan and Ford shared a grin before exchanging a high six.

Another job well done.

* * *

It was the second pen Dipper had chewed through in a matter of days.

He had been busy leafing through the notes he’d written about something Kyan called ritual magic. So far, Dipper had had no luck when using sigils. Ritual magic, however, consumed physical components to power more complicated spells, such as making illusions or finding distant objects. Of course, now that his pen had all but exploded on everything he’d written so far… Dipper sighed. Maybe the universe was telling him he just wasn’t meant to learn magic.

He glanced at the empty cot next to his. Mabel was probably wandering around the place, helping people with their chores and generally being the human equivalent of a ray of sunshine (or so she claimed). Still, she wasn’t the only one to be so cheerful these days. Something had changed over the last week; a sense of hope had sprouted in the hearts of the people of the rebellion. With each new victory, this little sampling grew a little bigger. And—Dipper was fiercely proud to admit it—his uncles seemed to be the main instigators of that change.

Dipper suddenly perked up, hearing a commotion happening in the distance. He rushed out of the room, toward the source of those cheers. A crowd was forming, blocking the entrance of the tunnels. Yaspa’s tall form was the most visible, but Dipper was more interested in the two familiar figures standing beside her. People were swarming around his uncles, clapping them on the back and shaking their hands. Dipper tried to push his way through. Considering he was about as imposing as a stick, it was more difficult than anticipated. Finally, Grunkle Ford caught sight of him.

“Dipper!” he called out, opening his arms for a hug.

Thankfully, people parted to allow Dipper to embrace his uncle. For the past few days, Grunkle Ford’s mood had been steadily improving. Of course, being the stubborn old man he was, he hadn’t told Dipper or his sister why he’d been so worried before, but Dipper knew him well enough to guess. It was irritating to be kept in the dark like he was some helpless little baby, yes, but as long as his uncle was doing better, Dipper didn’t mind.

Mabel had also made her way through the crowd, and she tackled Stan with a hug, making him laugh. Soon, she was dragging him by the hand, “C’mon, you guys! The cook is preparing a feast for the two of you!”

“A feast?” Stan said with a snort. “Like, we’ll be allowed to eat more rations than usual?”

“No, you silly! We’ve got real food this time! The cook said he’s gonna make a traditional meal, just for you guys!”

“A traditional meal?” Ford said, smiling. “That could be quite the experience!”

“Pro’bly not kosher, though,” Stan said in jest.

The meal, it turned out, was delicious. The various dishes included a number of root vegetables (which were, like most plant life on this planet, bleached white) and the meat of a crustacean creature Kyan called an _acaloah_. For dessert, they were served beignets made with the same kind of purple fruit Stan had stolen when they had first arrived in Dimension 52.

Eventually, a quartet of musicians began to play what Dipper figured was a traditional piece. A few people danced to the admittedly catchy tune, and Mabel jumped out of her seat, clapping her hands and looking expectantly at her brother and uncles. Only Ford accepted her invitation, and soon he was making her twist and twirl, prompting loud giggles from Dipper's sister.

While Ford and Mabel danced, Stan recounted their latest mission to the children sharing their table, taking great care to exaggerate his fighting prowess in the process. Soon, he was the centre of attention, to his great delight. Sitting beside him, Dipper simply shook his head, rolling his eyes in fond amusement.

Stan’s face was still plastered with the stupidest, smuggest grin when they returned to their room for the night.

“ _Hah!_ ” he said, letting himself fall on his cot. “A guy could get used to this. Who knows, this might turn out to be a half-decent vacation.” His words were marred by an immediate frown. “Or maybe not. No beaches, no babes, no booty… not to mention that bunch of crazies after my hot bod...”

“Please don’t use those two words to refer to yourself ever again,” Dipper said.

“I concur,” Ford added.

“Aw, lookit those poor nerds. Jealous of my rugged good looks and roguish charm, are ya?”

“Don’t be so gloomy, guys!” Mabel said. “I know we can make this a _fun_ experience!”

Three pairs of eyes filled with skepticism turned to her. Mabel’s smile faltered for a moment, but in the end it remained firmly in place.

“I believe in us,” she repeated. “We’ve survived worse. And they really shoulda thought about it before messing with us.”

“Y’know, I can get behind that,” Stan said. “Revenge and spite, now that’s more up my alley.”

Ford chuckled. Still, not long after, his face grew more serious. “I know it’s tempting, but let’s not get too overconfident. Right now, we need to focus our attention on finding a way to get home.”

“Well, aren’tcha a cheerful guy, bro,” Stan said dryly.

“There’s that portal,” Dipper said. “At the Temple of Dawn, I mean. If they managed to pluck us from our dimension, I guess it can send us home too?”

“Pluck us from our dimension,” Ford repeated in an absent-minded manner. “How did they pull it off exactly?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Dipper said. “How did they even learn that Grunkle Stan was the one who defeated Bill? And from another dimension, too!”

Stan shrugged. “How the hell should I know? Don’t they use magic?”

“Their head priestess certainly does,” Ford said. “She mistook me for you because—” His eyebrows shot up. “ _Oh_. ‘The face of the man who will defeat Bill Cipher’. Can it be _that_ simple?” 

“What? What are you talking about, Poindexter?”

“The Oracle. _Jheselbraum_. When I met her, that’s what she told me. Back then, I thought that…” Grunkle Ford hesitated. “I thought that _I_ would be the one to defeat Bill. But she meant _you_.”

“Oh- _kay_ ,” Stan said, “that’s freaky. She saw the future or somethin’?”

“Who knows? I didn’t put much stock in her stories back then, but now…”

“So to make things short, I’m actually some prophesized hero who was s’posed to save the world, yadda, yadda, yadda?” Stan rubbed his chin. “Huh. You’d think I’d feel smug about this, but I just think it’s _dumb_. Who would choose a kid from _friggin’_ Jersey of all places?”

“Someone who’s never been there, obviously,” Dipper said.

Both Stan and Ford sent him a scathing look.

“Watch it, buster,” said Stan. “Only a Jersey native can say shit about Jersey.”

“Dad was born there!” Mabel said. “We’re like, half-Jerseyan or something.”

“Awright, I’ll allow it,” Stan said with a snort. “Even if your other half came from freakin’ _California_ of all places.”

Mabel stuck out her tongue at him. Stan retaliated by doing the same. From his cot, Ford was muttering something along the lines of, “ _Sixty-year-old, and he still does this_.”

“Well,” Stan said, “s’not that I don’t like having a chat with you losers, but I’m an old man and my back’s killin’ me. Time to sleep, people.” He gave a significant pause before adding, “That means you too, Sixer.”

“Yes, yes, of course, _Mother_ ,” Ford said, rolling his eyes. Stan blew him a raspberry as well.

“Nighty night, Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford! You too, brobro!”

“Yeah, goodnight, everyone.”

“Goodnight, children. Goodnight, Stanley.”

“Whatever, g’night, you dorks.”

In a surprising turn of events, Grunkle Ford was actually the first to fall asleep. Grunkle Stan soon followed, filling their room with snores worthy of the noise of a motorboat. For his part, Dipper remained awake; he hadn’t finished rewriting everything that had been blotted out in his earlier accident on a new, cleaner page.

“Whatcha doin’?” a familiar voice whispered.

With a sigh, Dipper scooted a little on his cot, allowing his sister to climb beside him.

“Just copying some stuff,” he muttered back. “Shouldn’t you go to sleep?”

“Pff, yeah, right, like I’m one to stick to rules. Or common sense!” She was silent for a while, before adding, “Besides, I can’t get my mind to settle. I keep thinking, y’know, about going _home_ and—”

“Oh,” Dipper said, feeling a bit abashed. “Mabel, if you’re worried about it, then—”

“ _Nahhh_ ,” she cut him off. “I’m not worried. Well, I am, but just a little bit. I’m making a list of everything I plan to do when we get home, you see. It helps me feel better!”

Dipper found himself smiling. “Huh. That’s not a bad idea.”

“I’ll need a tight schedule to pull off all my projects, you know? First off, Wendy asked me to set up her dad with the mayor. Apparently, there’s a lot of pining from afar, and she’s getting sick of it.” Mabel grinned wickedly. “But not to worry! Mabel Pines, matchmaker extraordinaire, is on the case!”

“Mabel, all of your matchmaking attempts resulted in disaster.”

“Not all of them!” she protested. “Robbie and Tambry are still together!”

“Don’t you think you just could, like, let things run their course naturally?”

“ _Nooo_ , that would be boring.” For a moment, she appeared deep in thought. “Last year, I wanted to match Grunkle Stan with Soos’ grandma, but now I see it won’t work. No offense to Stan, but she’s too _good_ for him, you know? She’s practically a perfect person.”

“I’m not taking part in this conversation. I’m not even going to listen to you anymore.”

“You know who would be cute together?” she continued, completely ignoring his interruption. “Grunkle Ford and McGucket! They could be adorable old nerds together and do… well, whatever adorable old nerds do together!”

Dipper groaned, putting his journal over his face. “Again. Not getting involved into this.”

“Okay, Mr. Boring-McBoringpants,” she said. “I knew you’d be useless anyway.”

“Just… don’t try to match me with anyone, okay? Last time, your schemes nearly got me killed by a homicidal shapeshifting alien.”

“Oh, I know it’s no use getting involved in your love life. Besides, I’m sure you’ll be fine on that front.”

Dipper’s face peered from under his book. “Really? What makes you say that?”

“Aw, c’mon! You’re nice, smart _and_ brave! I know there’s someone out there who’ll be super lucky to have you as a boyfriend. You just have to be patient ‘til love comes your way, brobro.”

“Huh.” Dipper smiled. “You’re not just saying that, are you? You’re not teasing me, you’re actually being _sincere_.”

“Of course I’m not teasing you,” Mabel said, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear. “I’m the bestest, most supportive sister ever, why would I do that?”

Dipper gave her a _look_ , and she cackled.

“Anyway, where was I?” Mabel said. “Oh yeah, coming up with the perfect date! What’s McGucket’s favourite food, you think? Grunkle Ford’s a disaster in the kitchen, so I’ll have to step up for the cooking _and_ the decorations, but that’s nothing I can’t handle—”

In response, Dipper only groaned again.

* * *

Dipper awoke in a daze, still feeling a bit sleepy. His uncles were speaking in low tones. Ford gave Dipper a rueful smile when he caught his nephew staring at him.

“Ah, sorry for waking you up, my boy,” he said. “It’s still very early. Go back to sleep.”

“Ugh, if it’s that early, why aren’t you two sleeping, then?” Mabel said with a yawn. Dipper hadn’t noticed she was awake too. “I told you before, you two need your old man rest!”

Ford chuckled. “We’re leaving on a mission, Stanley and I.”

Dipper sat up abruptly. “Wait! You would have left without waking us up?”

Their uncles both looked suitably ashamed. “Well, it _is_ really early,” Stan said. “You kids need a good night of sleep too.”

Mabel crossed her arms. “Hmph! As if I wouldn’t say goodbye to my favourite old softies!”

“I’m not a softie,” Stan scoffed, pointing at his bicep. “Look at these guns. I’m prime tough guy material, I tell ya.”

“Pff! You _are_ a certifiable softie!” Mabel said, almost like an accusation. “You carry pictures of us in your wallet! Pictures of Soos and Wendy, too!”

Stan squinted at her. “Why do you know what’s in my wallet?”

“Oh, I just needed to copy your signature in case we ever needed to forge it. I put your wallet back where I found it when I was finished, don’t you worry!”

“Huh.” Stan rubbed his jaw. “I guess that’s a good reason.”

“Alright, then,” Ford said, flinging his bag across his shoulder. “We need to get going.”

“Ah, wait, Grunkle Ford!” Mabel said, snapping her fingers. “Before I forget it, do you know what’s Mr. McGucket’s favourite food?”

Dipper groaned, while Ford blinked guilelessly. “Huh?” he said. “What brought this on, sweetheart?”

“Nothing,” she lied with the cutest smile possible. “I was just wondering!”

“Beans,” Grunkle Ford replied. “Fidds was mad about beans, I recall.”

“Ugh, really? I’d hoped for something fancier…”

“What’s that, dear?”

“I can work with that. I can work with almost anything.” She glanced surreptitiously toward Stan, her eyes narrowing. “Well, _almost_ anything.”

Poor Grunkle Ford looked completely nonplussed. “Well… glad to be of help… I guess?”

“C’mon, Poindexter,” Stan said. “That Yaspa lady is going to give us an earful if we’re late.”

Ford nodded, before turning to Dipper and Mabel. “You two stay out of trouble, you hear?”

“How would we even get into trouble if we’re stuck here all day?” Dipper muttered.

In response, Ford reached out to ruffle his hair. “Take care, both of you.”

When the two of them were gone, Dipper flopped down his cot. “Ugh. They weren’t so darn overprotective last summer. What’s gotten into them?”

“I know they’re worried,” Mabel said, “but we’re not little babies. We’ve been through worse!”

“Yeah. And how are we supposed to help if we spend our days here being useless?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do _anything_ ,” Mabel said, deepening her voice in a mimicry of Ford. “You two are small, helpless children who must be protected!”

“Like we even have the option of going back to being regular kids after what happened last summer,” Dipper muttered, bitterly.

“Are you alright, brobro?” Mabel said, her brow creasing. “Do you need to talk about it?”

“You know, I’m fine, actually,” Dipper replied. “I’m more annoyed than mad. It'd be easier to find a solution if they just, you know, let us help.”

“Well, at least you’re studying magic! You’re actually _doing_ something!”

Dipper sniffed. “Yeah, well… that’s kind of going nowhere. I doubt I’ll much of help on that front.”

“Aw, c’mon! Don’t lose hope! I bet you’ll be zapping bad guys in no time! Speaking of zapping…” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Wanna go find Kyan? I’m sure he won’t mind helping you practise again!”

Dipper narrowed his eyes at her _._ “Oh, _no_. I know that look. Please don’t tell me you have a crush on him, _please_.”

“ _What?!_ ” Mabel snorted. “Me, having a crush on him?! He’s like, a clone of you, but blue! You know I don’t date nerds! Besides, I don’t think he’d be into me…”

“Why do you say that?” Dipper said with a frown.

In response, she only laughed again. “C’mon! Time to make a wizard out of you, Dipdop!”

* * *

“So,” Dipper muttered, more acridly than he would have liked, “what I am doing wrong again?”

He had been practising for _hours_ , and yet he had nothing to show for it. Kyan had chosen to teach simple ritual spells, like one that served to make someone’s skin tougher or another that imbued its target with supernatural luck. Despite all of Dipper’s efforts, nothing came of it.

“Ugh,” he spat, grabbing his head with both hands. “Let’s just take a break, I’m beat.”

“Good idea!” Mabel said, patting the spot next to her.

He dropped to the ground with a sigh, and she eyed him sympathetically. Kyan simply continued to pace. The air was not so windy today, which was kinda nice. It could get rather cold this high in the mountains.

“You doin’ okay, brobro?” Mabel asked.

“’Course I am,” he muttered, contemplating the misty valley below. “I guess my theory’s right. I’m not from this dimension, so I can’t access its pool of magical energy or whatever.”

“I’m sorry,” said Kyan. “You tried so hard, and yet…”

“Hey," Dipper said, "it’s no big deal. It was nice to learn about it, anyway.”

There was an uncomfortable silence, then Kyan made a strange face, almost as he was stifling an urge to laugh.

“What is it?” Mabel said, feigning indignation. “Are you mocking us, _sir?_ ”

“No,” Kyan said, “it’s just… seeing you two sitting side by side, it struck me… if not for Mabel’s hair, I wouldn’t be able to tell you two apart. It’s just so strange, having two different people look so alike.” His smile turned sheepish. “I never even knew what a twin was before I met you guys.”

“Why does the word exist in your language if you people can’t have twins?” Dipper asked.

Kyan shrugged. “It’s got something to do with the Lord of Twilight, I think. They say he’s the god of monsters and _twins_. It’s just… for the longest time, I thought a twin was some kind of legendary creature, like something out of a story!”

Mabel laughed, elbowing her brother in the ribs. “You hear that, Dipdop? In this dimension, we’re a rare, mythical breed!”

“Well, it’s pretty rare for people here to have siblings in the first place. My parents were considered freaks for having me while they had already one child.” Kyan’s eyes darted to the side. “Among other reasons…”

“Other reasons?” Mabel asked brightly, making Dipper hit his forehead with his palm.

Kyan blushed a deeper blue. “O-Oh… it’s… I mean… it’s really…” For a moment, he fidgeted on his spot. Then, he pushed his bangs aside, showing a third eye in the middle of his forehead. “D-Do you understand, now?”

Dipper exchanged a look with Mabel, and she shrugged. “No, we don’t actually,” he said. “Doesn’t everyone here have more than two eyes?”

“O-Oh, no, t-that’s not it… my third eye, it’s green. Except it _should_ be blue, like my other two eyes. I’ve got green spots on my knees too. I guess it’s just a freak mutation or something.”

“What?!” Mabel exclaimed. “And people bully you because of that?! What kind of poo-poo reason is that?!”

Kyan blinked. “Well, um, it’s okay, I get why it makes people uncomfortable…”

“It’s not okay!” Mabel said. “Ugh, even in another dimension, jerks find bogus reasons to push around other people!”

“You really think it’s bogus?” Kyan said.

“It’s as bogus as bullying someone ‘cause they have six-fingered hands! Or because they’re born with a birthmark on their forehead!”

This time, it was Dipper who found himself blushing. “ _Mabel_ ,” he said, unconsciously combing his bangs in front of said birthmark. “It’s really not the same, you know, you can’t compare those kinda things…”

“Six-fingered hands?” Kyan asked. “Is it so rare in your world?”

“It’s common in yours?” Dipper said, equally puzzled.

“It’s not common, no, but people don’t really make a fuss about it. They find it freakier if you don’t have the right number of eyes. Like, if you have just two eyes even after reaching adulthood. It was said that people would be born like that because they had been cursed in a past life or something.”

“Hah!” said Mabel. “So everyone here must find Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford really weird!”

“W-What?!” Kyan sputtered. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Admit it, they’re super freaky by Dimension 52 standards!” Mabel continued. “They’re identical twins, for one.”

“Well, it’s true that I can’t tell them apart…”

“They don’t look _that_ alike,” Dipper said.

“It’s easy!” his sister added. “You gotta look at their hair! Grunkle Ford’s hair is, well, _floofy_.”

“Floofy? I think the translator’s not working right. What is _‘floofy’_?”

“Floofy! You know, like… _bwoop!_ ” Mabel gestured at her head, as if _miming_ their uncle’s apparently distinctive hair texture was going to help.

“Just look at their hands,” Dipper said, taking pity on poor Kyan. “Stan doesn’t have six fingers.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Kyan said with a chuckle. “I bet Yaspa still can’t tell which one is which either.”

“Same goes for that high priestess lady,” Dipper said with a snort. “She thought Ford was Stan.”

“Huh,” said Kyan. “That would explain why she would use a scrying spell to find your uncle Ford even though she was looking for your uncle Stan.”

“You can use scrying spells to find people, not just objects?” Dipper frowned, suddenly apprehensive.

“Yes. It’s a bit hard to pull off since you need a part of the person’s body. Like hair, or blood. That’s why Yaspa chose this place as a hideout. Being underground protects us from that kind of spell.”

“Wait, wait, _wait_ ,” said Dipper, “if they had the necessary material to use a scrying spell to pinpoint Grunkle Ford’s location while we were in our own dimension, then…” His eyebrows shot up. “Oh, no! Oh, no, no, no!”

“Then whenever your uncle would leave the hideout, it would mean...” Kyan went pale as well. “Oh.”

Dipper jumped to his feet, heart pounding. “We need to warn Grunkle Ford. _Now!_ ”


	13. Chapter 13

_\- Ten years ago –_

* * *

Ford was usually one to boast of his ability to hold his drink, but those cosmic sand shots were hitting him _hard_.

He’d been drunker before, that much he could remember. There had been wild benders with Fidds in college (his Tennessee-born roommate had made some damn fine moonshine), not to mention all the embarrassing moments that had resulted in him waking up with yet another tattoo. Still, Ford didn’t exactly enjoy being drunk; the natural Jersey accent he tried so hard to suppress usually came out full force when he was inebriated (Fidds had once said it was cute, but that was before Ford had started to cuss him out).

Still, he was fairly plastered right now. Sitting across from him, Jheselbraum was sipping her fourth drink, looking none the worse for wear. If he hadn’t been drunk out of his mind, Ford would have envied her poise.

At first, she asked him about his plans for the future. The moment she realized he answered all of her questions with giggles, she settled for less serious topics. Soon, she was laughing as well, hiding her mouth with her sleeve. Even tipsy, she was ever the dignified lady.

Eventually, Ford’s eyelids started to droop. Jheselbraum reached for his hand, gently squeezing it. “You should rest, my friend,” she told him. “You will soon undertake quite the journey.”

Ford offered her what he hoped was a charming grin. “Yesh. An eplic journey. I-I’m the one desu—destun— _who’s s’posed_ to kill Buh-Bill Cipher.” For a while, his mind drew a blank, and he frowned. His face broke into another smile as he added, “That’s what you said!”

Her expression was hard to decipher. “In a way. For now, I should simply let you go to sleep.”

“A’ight,” Ford said with a yawn. “See ya tomorrow morning.”

“Sleep well, Stanford.” And in a swish of skirts, she was gone.

For a moment, Ford remained seated on his bed, swaying a little. “Yeah. Going to shleep. Tha’s what ‘m doin’.” He blinked. Was there something else he needed to do? “Ah, yesh!” he said, finally remembering. “Firsht, I need to go tinkle.”

Despite his impaired abilities, Ford managed to find the restrooms easily enough. He took his time returning to his room, partly to take in the sights, partly to keep himself from tripping over his own feet. Often, he stopped to peek outside, enjoying the moonlit mountains and the cool, crispy air of the evening. An idea was brewing in his mind as he contemplated the alien landscape. Why did he have to leave? He was safe now that the metal plate shielded him against Bill’s vile invasions. He could stay here, and learn from Jheselbraum to strengthen his body and mind.

The more Ford thought on this idea, the more amazing it seemed to his inebriated brain. He had to find Jheselbraum to announce the good news! Ford set out in search of her, a stupid grin plastered over his face. Instead, he stumbled into one of her acolytes. It was the green-skinned girl he’d met before. Both of her eyes widened as she caught sight of him.

“Hello!” he told the young woman, voice slightly squeaky. “You haven’t seen Jhevel—Hesel—Jhebrel—the _Oracle_ around, have ya?”

The girl opened and closed her mouth in quick succession. Great, Ford thought, quickly examining his clothes for questionable-looking stains. He hadn’t been sick, had he? Or maybe he had wandered out of his room clad only in his underwear? Even drunk, Ford would never perform such an unforgivable social faux pas.

The young woman nervously swallowed. With great difficulty, she said, “You are he— _him_. Oracle announced before.”

Ford beamed at her. “Wow! You speak English!” He narrowed his eyes. “Wait, you speak English…?”

“I learn word. To speak to you.”

Ford counted the numbers of days he’d been here. “Huh. Ya sure learned fast.”

Her expression was strangely serious, in a way that would have aroused his suspicions had he been sober. “Yes. Over many year. Necessary to understand, to know if you are him.”

Ford managed a grin. “You’re right! I am _him!_ The man duh-destined to kill Buh-Bill Cipher! It’s a prophecy an’ everything!”

He expected surprise from the young woman, even awe. Instead, she only frowned.

“No,” she murmured, “you are not…”

“Beg yer pardon?” Ford slurred.

“You… you are not him. I cannot find him in you. Oracle told wrong, she saw it not.” The girl actually smiled. “You are not… more special than I am.”

“Well, that’s rah-ruh- _rude_ , y’know.” Ford stared at her hand. She was clasping a tuft of something. “Huh. S’that hair?” He chuckled. “Why’re going ‘round carryin’ someone’s hair?”

She hid her hand behind her back. “You should rest. Sleep. Hard journey to go.”

“Wait,” he said, reaching forward, “I need to see—”

He was struck with a sudden bout of nausea, and he stumbled on his feet, nearly dropping to his knees. She cried out, catching him before he fell. Despite his weak protests, she began to guide him somewhere—back to his room, more probably.

With her help, Ford managed to find his way back to his cot. He let himself fall on his back and _giggled_ when he found himself amidst a mountain of cushions. The girl looked slightly disturbed; before he could thank her, she rushed out of the room with a muttered apology.

Despite his intoxicated state, Ford took great care to remove his boots and coat. His Ma hadn’t raised a rude boy, after all. Soon, he could hear the call of the land of dreams. He fell asleep with a smile teasing his lips.

What an amazing sensation. He’d almost forgotten how it was like, to simply seek the sweet oblivion of sleep.

Soon, he was in the middle of a pleasant dream. Water lapped at his bare feet, seaweed tickling his heels. The air smelled of salt and sunshine, and a boy was calling his name, happily. Tomorrow, they would both sport matching sunburns from spending a day at the beach. The boy shouted Ford’s name again, more insistently. _Too_ insistently.

“—ford!” Something was wrong. That wasn’t Stanley’s voice, was it? “ _STANFORD!_ ”

Ford groaned, his eyes fluttering open. He was immediately hit by a wave of revulsion; someone was _touching_ him, shaking him by the shoulders, their face veiled in the shadows.

Ford wrestled himself out of their grasp, backing away. In the dimmed light, he could see a figure wearing a cowl. Jheselbraum’s seven-eyed gaze was wild with terror.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” she told him, “but you need to leave, _now_.”

“Wha…?” he said, blinking. His head hurt like it was about to split apart.

She handed his glasses over to him with shaking hands. “No time to explain. Just follow me, _please_.”

Ford simply sat on his cot, brain lost up in a fog. He barely reacted when she grabbed him by the hand, dragging him out of his room. She hadn’t even let him put on his boots and his—

“Wait!” Ford cried, mind clearing a little. “My coat! I need it!”

Jheselbraum made an irritated noise as Ford rushed back to his room. A sigh of relief escaped his mouth as he saw a dark bundle on the floor. Inside one of the inner pockets, there was a picture. Two boys on a shipwrecked sailboat grinned back at him, unaware of the dark future that awaited them. Their happy expressions were both a balm and a knife to the heart.

He startled a little when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Jheselbraum was looking at him with an intensity he wouldn’t have associated with one such as her.

“We must get going,” she told him. “I’ve made a grave miscalculation, and we don’t have much time.”

“Where are we going?” he said as she led him through the temple. Distant noises were coming to his ears; were those shouts? And the sounds of a scuffle? Was there a fight going on?

“To another temple in a nearby city,” she answered. “That’s where you’ll find the closest dimensional rift.”

If he had been in a better state, he would have honed in on those two words immediately. Instead, he only stumbled after her, fighting to stay conscious.

Cold air whipped at his face as he followed her outside. She helped him inside a vehicle of sorts. The shouts and footsteps were getting louder. A few figures came rushing out of the temple. They were holding long objects with sharpened, glowing tips. Weapons?

Jheselbraum hissed something in her language—a curse?—as she fiddled with the control panel. The engine rumbled to life; before Ford could make out what was happening, the vehicle sped out of the temple courtyard.

How long did they spend driving? Ford couldn’t know. Dark clouds covered the sky, depriving them of the much-needed light of the moon and the stars. Ford was halfway aware that they were leaving the mountaintop and going down the valley. Soon, they were more lights, even the noise of a crowd. Buildings surrounded them rather than cliffs. They were in a city, one bustling with colours and sounds. After a week spent in the stillness of twilight, such a display of life was dazzling.

Finally, the vehicle came to a lurching stop, nearly making Ford vomit all over the metallic floor. Again, Jheselbraum grabbed him by the hand, leading him up a set of stairs. Ford blinked, trying to make sense of his surroundings. They were climbing a great pyramid of sorts. Inside, the Oracle brought him to a twisting staircase built in the middle of a vast hall. She did not seem to want to slow down.

“Jheselbraum,” Ford managed, “please… I’m… I’m going to _faint_ …”

“I’m sorry,” she answered, dragging him up the stairs. “I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

All seven of her eyes widened when they heard more shouting coming from below. Ford frowned. “Our pursuers… they came all this way?”

Rather than answer him, she only kept running, forcing Ford to keep up with her pace. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they reached the end of the stairs. The two of them were in another circular hall, the ceiling supported by a number of wide columns. A second set of stairs could be found in the middle, leading to a platform.

“We’re nearly there,” Jheselbraum said. “Please, Stanford, just a little further…”

She appeared exhausted. Without a word, Ford followed after her, stumbling up the stairs. His head felt stuffed, like his brain had gained the consistency of oatmeal. All of this seemed more like a dream than reality. Perhaps it _was_ a dream, in truth. It was the most logical explanation his frazzled mind could come up with.

When they reached the platform, Jheselbraum put both hands over his shoulders and said, voice never wavering, “Remember, when _he_ is about to pass on to the next world, reach out for his hand.”

“Wha…?” Ford said. All of this was so strange. Was this a hallucination brought about by the cosmic sand? “ _W-Who_ …?”

“ _Stanley_ ,” she said, sounding rather distressed. “Please find it in yourself to forgive him for something that always been outside his control, _please_ —”

“ _There he is!_ ”

A few figures stood at the base of the stairs leading to the platform. They were pointing at Jheselbraum in an insistent manner. At their head was the green-skinned girl. Was Ford imagining things or was she _grinning?_

“ _HAH!_ ” the young woman shrieked. “ _End of the line, kiddo! Too bad Big Frills isn’t here to save your sorry skin!_ ”

Jheselbraum did not say anything. There was something strange about the young woman’s voice, a familiar inflection that turned Ford’s stomach, making an ever-present terror lurk back to the surface of his mind. His heart began to beat faster; no, this was no dream, this was a _nightmare_.

“ _Say, you know that it’s the first time I’ve ever been in a meat sack that can do magic?_ ” the girl continued in a shrill voice, as if she was not used to her own vocal cords. “ _Let’s see how it goes, shall we?_ ”

Ford heard something crackle, and a burst of blue energy sped toward him. Before he could react, a violet blur moved in front of him. Jheselbraum had shielded him with her body. Her face twisted in pain, tears and sweat dripping from her chin. Still, she did not utter a sound.

There was another noise, this time coming from behind him. Through clouded eyes, Ford spied a strange distortion hovering in the air.

Even his dulled mind knew what it was.

A _tear_ ripping at the fabric of reality.

“ _NO!_ ” the girl screamed. “ _DON’T LET HIM GET AWAY!_ ”

With great effort, Jheselbraum raised her gaze toward Ford. “P-Please… remember what I said…” Before Ford could answer, she pushed him into the dimensional tear.

The last thing Stanford Pines ever saw of Dimension 52 was her closing her eyes in peaceful acceptance as another bolt of blue lightning came her way.

* * *

_– Gravity Falls, 2013 –_

* * *

In all appearances, Gravity Falls was a quaint little town—the perfect slice of Americana.

Dryer had called more agents to broaden their search, and so far, all of them had been bored senseless by their assignment. They had combed the town and the surrounding forests, meeting nothing but—in their own words—‘dim-witted hicks and ‘woodland vermins’.

Unlike her colleagues, Dryer found the place oddly charming. For one, she had gotten rather fond of the nearby diner, especially the owner’s homemade pies. Last time she had been there, however, she’d stumbled upon the group of youths who had once hung around the Mystery Shack. Young Wendy Corduroy had looked positively murderous when she had ‘accidently’ bumped into Dryer. Dryer had simply let it slide; she couldn’t fault the girl for nursing a grudge, could she?

She, Blauer and a few others focused on the Mystery Shack, hoping to find the causes of the gravitational anomalies they had recorded last summer. Dryer expected it was some kind of large device, one was probably powered by the barrels of stolen radioactive waste. What purpose would such a machine serve… that, she had no idea.

She was certain the device was located underground, away from prying eyes. Of course, that left her with quite the conundrum. Dryer couldn’t just waste the taxpayers’ money on digging up all the place just on a hunch. She needed solid evidence before making her move.

She sighed, watching the sun setting over the pine trees. Another fruitless day was coming to a close. It would only add to Blauer’s sour mood, that much she knew. Dryer made a note to stage an intervention before he lost his temper on some poor civilian. She gritted her teeth at the thought; Blauer wouldn’t have been her first choice for a partner, not even her second or her third. But he had been present when the waste barrels had been stolen, which meant that she had to suffer his company.

Dryer was about to head back to her car (and back to the dingy motel she’d called home, these past few days) when a pick-up truck came up the driveway. Dryer quirked an eyebrow as she recognized the vehicle.

The young owner of the Mystery Shack climbed out of the car, flashing her a grin. “Hello, Ms. Dryer! Enjoying the sunset? I getcha, dude, I love drinking a nice, cold soda on the porch at the end of the day.”

Dryer did not return his smile. “Hello, Mr. Ramirez.”

“Oh, just call me Soos, dude! Mr. Ramirez was my grandpa, you see?”

“Soos, then,” said Dryer. “Why are you here?”

The young man held up a wallet. Dryer’s eyes widened when she recognized it.

“One of my friends found it at Susan’s diner,” Soos lied— _badly_. “You must have dropped it!”

“Thank you,” Dryer said, taking it. She wondered who among his friends had pilfered it from her pockets—Ms. Corduroy seemed like a reasonable candidate.

“And, uh, sorry, dude, but I had to look inside to find its owner,” Soos added, sheepishly. “The picture I saw… is it your daughter?”

Dryer’s gaze snapped back to him. “Yes.”

“Aw, it’s sweet that you have a picture of her in your wallet,” Soos continued, unaware of the edge in Dryer’s voice. “When I’ll have kids, I’ll carry pictures of them with me everywhere, I tell ya!”

Dryer didn’t know what to say; it was rare to stumble upon someone so candid, so _naïve_.

“I mean,” Soos continued, “my dad wasn’t exactly around, so he probably didn’t carry a picture of me in his wallet. It’s been _years_ , and I know I shouldn’t be all torn up about it, but… it would have been nice, I think.” For a while, his face lacked his usual smile. Then he asked, “What’s her name? Your daughter, I mean.”

“Anamaria,” Dryer answered.

“That’s a pretty name,” Soos said. “It’s funny ‘cause my abuelita’s name is María, you know? And my mom was named Anabel, but everyone called her Ana.”

 _Was_ named, Dryer noted, feeling a brief sense of pity for the boy. His mother was dead, and his father had abandoned the family. Young Soos Ramirez was more resilient than he looked.

“She must be pretty lonely while you’re out here,” Soos continued.

“She lives with her father in Boston,” Dryer said. Why was she admitting those things to that kid? “My ex-husband and I decided it would be best for her.”

“Oh.” There was something strange to his expression, like a hint of disapproval. Still, his characteristic cheer was not long in coming back. “I bet she finds it cool that her mom is like, a secret agent!”

Dryer shrugged. “Not particularly.” Last time she’d seen her daughter, one month ago, Ana had spent most of her time glued to her phone. “My daughter’s got an active imagination. She enjoys learning about monsters and myths, while I… well, I work for the government.”

“Oh!” Soos said. “She’d get along with my friend Dipper. He’s into this stuff too!”

“Stanford Pines’ nephew?” Dryer questioned.

Soos looked surprised… and a little suspicious. “How d’you know that, dude?”

“My files mention that your friend Dipper and his sister lived with their uncle last summer.” She frowned. “They would not know anything about Mr. Pines’ criminal activity… would they?”

“Oh, they wouldn’t!” Soos said, a bit too precipitately. “I mean, if Mr. Pines _had_ been up to something. Which he hasn’t. He might be crass or rude sometimes, but…” His expression softened. “Everything Mr. Pines does, it’s for the people he loves. He’s a her— _a nice person_.”

Dryer wondered what Soos had been about to say. Again, there was a genuineness to his words, a deep-seated affection that was mingled with a sense of… worry. _Fear_ , even. What was it about his old boss that left Soos so distressed? Why was he lying about the man’s whereabouts?

What on earth had happened to Stanford Pines?

“I see,” she said evenly.

Soos’ smile wavered a little. He glanced over Dryer’s shoulder, looking at the Mystery Shack with a forlorn expression. “You know, I’ve been missing the place...”

“I’m sorry,” Dryer told him. “Rest assured that you and your family will be compensated for all your troubles.”

“I sure hope so,” Soos said, before clamping his hands over his mouth.

Dryer’s lips nearly formed a smile. For some reason, she found herself asking, “Do you believe in it? The supernatural, I mean.”

He goggled at her for a moment. “Nope,” he said eventually. This time, she could not tell if he was lying.

His answer prompted a snort from her. “Amusing, considering your choice in career.”

“The Mystery Shack isn’t there to prove that the supernatural is real,” Soos explained. “That’s not the point. The Shack… it’s like a reminder to stay curious, to stay _weird_ , even when you’re grown-up. It shows people just what they could discover, if they chose to have just a bit of an adventurer’s spirit.” His grin was almost bashful. “Or at least, that’s how I see it. I know it sounds dumb.”

Dryer was suddenly transported to summers spent in Vermont forests, to a log cabin built beside a lake, to a childhood’s worth of make-believe expeditions and mysteries. The experience was bittersweet. The curious and headstrong little girl who had sought to find Bigfoot in the woods behind her grandparents’ home was long gone now.

“You know, I could always give you guys a tour,” Soos said. “You could take pictures and send them to your daughter, if you want.”

“I guess I could,” Dryer said, slightly amused. She and the other agents had already examined the museum to all of their liking, and her colleagues had taken great pleasure in mocking the so-called attractions. She hadn’t share their merriment, however; much like the rest of town, she found the (shoddily made) taxidermied beasts and the (clearly fake) artefacts somewhat endearing.

Dryer gave him a genuine smile. “Then lead the way.”

* * *

Candy was used to being ‘the quiet one’.

She had learned early that it was better than being ‘the weirdo’ or the ‘bossy know-it-all’. People didn’t want an eight-year-old girl to talk their ears off about rocket propulsion or dinosaur taxonomy. Kids at school had been even worse; before she’d met Grenda, Candy had never had a friend. With Grenda’s help, it had been easier to accept her brainy, nerdy side. And when Mabel and her family had entered their lives, Candy had embraced wholeheartedly her weirdness, taking pride in it. She was done with being _quiet_ ; her mind overflowed with a thousand ideas, and the world would be a better place once she would learn to put them into practise.

Still, desperate times called for desperate measures.

From her spot in Soos’ truck, she listened to his conversation with that agent lady. Finally, they both entered the Shack. That was Candy’s cue. She snuck out of Soos’ truck, making sure no one was looking her way. On tiptoes, she went toward the cargo box. She lifted the tarp a little, and was greeted by a series of tinny little sounds. McGucket’s crab bots seemed curious and happy to see her.

“Hello, cuties. Would you like to help us with Phase Three of our plan?” McGucket had told her the bots weren’t sentient, but she always treated them as if they were. It just felt right to ask their permission.

One of them immediately approached her, beeping in assent. Crabby—he was the most eager to please.

“Thank you,” Candy said, helping him down. He was soon followed by 1D, who tended to be the shyest of the three. That only left Recky; he could be sullen as a teenager, sometimes.

“Please?” she said, bringing her hands together. “We don’t have much time…”

Recky made a noise that could almost be a groan, before jumping out of the truck. Candy checked if there were any agent close by. Two people in suits were talking next to one of their cars, sipping their coffee cups. They weren’t looking Candy’s way. As quietly as she could, she guided the bots toward the Shack, heading for the gift shop.

She took a peek through a window, biting down her lip when she noticed a black-suited woman inspecting the souvenirs. The agent muttered something that sounded like, “Who would buy that kind of schlock?”

Candy scowled. The woman’s incredulous tone was almost an affront to her pride as a citizen of Gravity Falls. Worse, the agent was standing a mere few feet away from the vending machine hiding the secret passage to the basement lab. Their plan had hinged on all the agents leaving for Soos’ tour. Candy would need another diversion.

“Recky,” she whispered, “throw a rock in the kitchen window, please.”

Thankfully, the bot was all too happy to cause some mayhem. Candy winced when she heard the sound of breaking glass, and she offered a silent apology to Soos and his family.

The woman in the gift shop stood up suddenly. At the same time, Agent Dryer’s voice came from the museum.

“What was that?”

“Oh, prob’ly just a gno—a _racoon_ ,” Soos’ answer followed. “You have no idea how many times they try to get into the pantry, dude!”

To Candy’s relief, the woman moved away from the vending machine, before finally leaving the gift shop. Candy took a deep breath, knowing she could not waste such an opportunity.

“Hurry, boys, hurry!” she whispered as she herded the bots toward the vending machine. “We don’t have much time!”

One of them made a worried little noise as she entered the code Soos had given her. Candy supressed a whoop of triumph when the vending machine swung open. She was hit with a whiff of stale air, and she fought not to sneeze.

“C’mon, guys,” she said, motioning over to the robots. “I know it looks dark and scary down there, but you can do it. You’re all brave lil’ boys, aren’t you?”

Crabby, ever the well-behaved darling, was the first to get inside. Candy gave him an affectionate pat on the head as he went. 1D followed, prompting more words of encouragement from Candy. That only left—

“Recky, _please_ ,” said Candy. “She’s gonna come back soon!”

Recky stomped on his spot, making a grumpy sound.

“We’re doing this to save your daddy’s friend,” Candy whispered urgently. Were those footsteps she was hearing? “You know your daddy would be so sad if something bad were to happen to Dr. Pines!”

That did the trick; McGucket might say otherwise, but Candy was sure that those three loved their daddy very much. Recky went into the darkened passage without another protest. Candy’s lower lip wobbled when she caught them staring at her, the little lights of their eyes shining in the dark.

“Thank you,” she told them, closing the passage. “We’ll see each other soon, don’t you worry.”

Candy stiffened as she heard footsteps heading her way. She sharply drew a breath, steeling her nerve. The quiet one, the meek girl, the kid no one noticed. She could put that to good use, could she?

She had just managed to hide behind the counter when the woman finally returned to the gift shop. The agent was grumbling something along the lines of, “Don’t pay me enough for this crap.”

Candy tried to slow her heartbeat down as she searched for an exit. She had three options: the door that led outside, the curtained entrance to the museum or the window. From the museum, she could hear Soos rhapsodizing about the mysterious eating habits of the jackalope. The window was slightly open, yes, but she knew it tended to creak something fierce. That left only the main exit.

She took out her phone, texting Soos. _i’m stuck in gift shop with agent lady, make a diversion plz?_

Candy heard his phone beeping in the museum. She crossed her fingers, holding her breath. She heard the sounds of footsteps, finally seeing Soos peeking out of the curtained entrance.

“Oh!” he said. “There’s another of you guys in the gift shop! Hello, I didn’t know you were there! I could start the tour again, if you’d like?”

The woman in the gift shop held up her hands. “No, it’s fine, I don’t need—”

“Nonsense, dude!” Soos motioned her over. “It’s for free! You don’t wanna turn down a free tour, do you?”

Candy hid a chuckle as the woman followed Soos into the museum. Mr. Pines would have been so proud of his boy! The moment the coast was clear, she made for the truck, giddy from her accomplishment.

She was still grinning like a madwoman when Soos climbed into the car as well.

“So?” he asked. “How did it go?”

In response, Candy held out her hand, and they shared a high five.

Phase Three was done. Now, all they needed to do was to wait while Mr. McGucket and his boys worked their magic.

* * *

Last thing Ford had expected when he had woke up this morning was to be stuck in a high-speed chase.

Invigorated by their recent successes, Yaspa had decided to hit a bigger target: a warehouse where supplies were kept before being sent to the Temple of Dawn. Stan had been giddy like a little boy when she had told them one of their objectives included stealing some weapons and a few hovercrafts. Yaspa also wanted to free the prisoners who were detained at this location before they could be taken to the temple.

The operation had gone smoothly… up to a certain point. Yaspa and her teams had gone inside to find the hostages, while Ford and Stan were to serve as decoys. Stan was ever so glad to hurl insults at their opponents and pummel them to his heart’s content. He was not so smug, however, when one of them had jumped into a hovercraft, speeding away from the warehouse.

By then, a gigantic fight had broken out, spurred on by Zuri and the prisoners she’d liberated. At the sight of the fleeing guardsman, Yaspa had yelled to Ford and his brother, “What are you two doing?! After him, before he calls for reinforcement!” The brothers had rushed into a hovercraft of their own, Stan letting out curses between every pant that escaped his mouth.

Ford took place before the control panel, throwing his laser gun at Stan. “I drive, you shoot.”

“What?!” Stan caught the gun, holding it like it was about to explode in his hands. “You know I’m a punchy-punch kind of guy, not a shooty-shoot! ‘sides I got cataracts, I can’t aim!”

“My point, exactly!” Ford shouted as he started the engine. “You can’t see worth a damn, letting you drive would be suicide!”

“Why wasn’t _that_ a problem when I drove us across the country back home?!”

Ford groaned as he cranked up the speed lever. Their hovercraft was certainly fast, but their quarry had already quite the head start on them.

“Stanley!” Ford shouted, loud enough so his brother would hear him over the sound of the wind, “ _shoot_ , for goodness’ sake!”

“I told you, I don’t see _shit_ , brainiac! Why don’t _you_ shoot?!”

“I’m _driving_ , you knucklehead!” Ford roared in response.

Stan shot at their target. He missed by a wild margin.

“What are you _doing_ , Stanley?!”

“Shut up, I need to focus!”

Another projectile left the gun; it singed a patch of grass behind the vehicle they pursued.

“Aim, Stanley, _aim!_ ”

“For _fuck’s_ sake, Poindexter!” And Stan closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.

It hit bullseye.

There was a small explosion in the hovercraft in front of them, followed by a man’s yelp. Stanley, against all odds, seemed to have fried the ship’s control panel. Ford was almost _insulted_ ; he had spent years practising the art of gunslinging, yet he had never been blessed with such a lucky shot.

“Huh,” said Stan. His face broke into a smarmy grin at the sight of Ford’s glare. “Well, someone’s a pissy baby! _Hah!_ ”

Ford brought them near the downed vehicle. Immediately, the guard’s hands shot in the air, and he squeaked, “ _Pleasedontkillme!_ ”

“Sheesh!” Stan said. “Those guys really are a bunch of wimps, aren’t they?”

“Get in,” Ford growled at the man. “ _Now_. We don’t have all day.”

Thankfully, he did as Ford ordered, whimpering all the while. Stan seemed all too happy to give him the evilest grin he could muster.

Ford drove their hovercraft back to the warehouse, hoping the battle had not turned in the enemy’s favour while they were gone. He sighed in relief when he heard cheers coming from the crowd standing in front of the compound. Prisoners and rebels alike were raising the stolen weapons above their heads, their opponents trussed up like a bunch of grey-robed chickens at their feet.

“Hah!” Stan said, grinning at Ford. It was such a purely delighted expression that Ford found himself transported to memories of a simpler time. “Did you ever think we’d do shit like that, back when we were kids? Back when we’d say we’d be adventurers?”

“A part of me certainly hoped so,” Ford answered, raising his hand for a high six.

Stan held out his own hand, grin widening. Something in his expression changed, however, and his face registered a hint of shock. As if in slow motion, Ford saw him being pulled backward by an invisible, inexplicable force.

“ _STANLEY!_ ” Ford shouted, reaching out for him.

His hand close around empty air.

Stan didn’t even manage to scream; in the blink of an eye, he was yanked out of the hovercraft. Yaspa’s people were shouting and pointing at something behind him, but Ford didn’t care. The ship swerved as he made a sharp turn. Ford’s blood froze in his veins when he caught sight of his brother.

Stan was hovering in the air beside three hovercrafts filled with orange-robed cultists. Two familiar figures stood in one of the vehicles. Tappaz looked smug, as always. The cloaked woman beside him was hunched, her expression hidden by a wooden mask. Her unsettling, one-eyed gaze was fixed on Ford’s brother.

Stan shoved his hands into his coat pockets. Malakh glanced at Ford—no, at Ford’s _hands_. Immediately, he hid them behind his back, prompting a low growl from her.

Ford could hear voices coming from behind; were Yaspa and the other rebels headed their way? Could he count on their assistance or were they fleeing? His gun was right under Stan’s feet. How could Ford reach it without provoking them into hurting his brother?

“Now, now,” Tappaz said, ever the oily bastard, “get out of the hovercraft, and join us, Mister— _ugh_ , which one of them _is_ the vessel, anyway?”

“Why can’t we grab ‘em both?” one of the orange-robed guards asked. “Would be easier that way, wouldn’t it?”

Ford gritted his teeth. If only he could have just enough time to grab his gun—

As on cue, a spear flew over his head, glowing tip burrowing deep in the metal floor by Tappaz’s feet. The man shrieked, falling on his rear. In the commotion, Malakh startled, her gaze leaving Ford for a slight moment.

That was his chance. He leaped out of the hovercraft, landing on the ground in a roll. In a fluid motion, he snatched his gun and shot at the high priestess. The projectile only grazed her arm, but it was enough to sap her concentration. Stan fell to the ground with a yelp.

A group of enraged rebels charged from behind Ford, spears and staffs held high. Ford jumped to his feet, shooting several paralyzing charges at the orange-robed guardsmen. The remaining cultists drew glowing sigils in the air, and Ford’s heart leaped in his throat.

“Spells!” he cried out in warning. “They’re casting spells!”

What followed looked straight out of one of those wizards’ movies Mabel loved so much. Projectiles of magical energy exploded in showers of sparks, stopping some of the rebels in their assault. Others managed to board the hovercrafts, lunging at the spellcasters with surprising ferocity. Still, none managed to land a hit on Malakh; those unwise enough to attack her were blasted away by her spells or knocked out of the hovercraft by her staff. 

Stan groaned, rubbing his backside. “Ugh. That’s gonna leave one hell of a bruise…”

“Stanley!” Ford called out, tilting his head toward Malakh. “We need to take her out!”

Stan nodded, pounding his fist into his open palm. “Sure thing, bro. I punch, you shoot?”

Ford rolled his eyes in a good-natured manner. “You punch, I shoot, yes.”

Stan waited until Malakh's back was turned before leaping into her hovercraft. The priestess whirled on her feet, and her single eye widened. Stan’s jab caught the underside of her jaw, knocking the mask from her face.

With a shriek, she fell overboard, one hand going to her face. The slight shimmering surrounding her dissipated, and Ford raised his gun, finger on the trigger.

In the split-second it took him to aim, he caught sight of her face. One eye stared back at him, filled with hatred. The other side of her face was a mess of scar tissue; it almost looked as if something—or _someone_ —had violently clawed out her right eye.

Ford’s eyebrows shot up. He could also see a web of pale scars crisscrossing her arms. Scars that very much resembled the ones hidden under his sleeves. “It’s as I thought,” he whispered. “You’re that girl from—”

He was abruptly cut off when someone tackled him from behind. The air was knocked out of Ford’s lungs as he hit the ground, gun slipping from his hands. His assailant stood over him, laughing and gloating.

“STANFORD!” Through blurred eyes, Ford saw his brother rushing toward him

“I got him, my lady!” Tappaz’s voice flared in Ford’s ears. “I got the vessel!”

“Wrong one,” Malakh said, getting to her feet. She sounded absolutely unimpressed. “ _Look at_ _the hands_.”

Tappaz’s cheeks grew a darker shade of yellow in embarrassment. “Wait, what?”

Malakh drew a quick sigil in the air, before clenching her hand into a fist. Something seemed to wrap around Ford’s throat, like an invisible rope crushing his windpipe. He struggled uselessly as he was lifted from the ground.

“He’s still useful,” Malakh said, approaching Ford. “ _As a bargaining chip_.” Now, her single eye was fixed on Stan.

Ford’s heart skipped a beat when he noticed his brother had grabbed his gun. Stan raised it toward Malakh with shaking hands.

“Drop the weapon,” Malakh said, and Ford felt her hold tightening around his neck. He kicked in the air, his awareness dimming.

An array of emotions passed quickly on Stan’s face. Fear. Anger. Despair. Finally, he settled on a quiet sort of resignation, putting the barrel of the gun over his temple.

Malakh snarled, while Ford summoned all of his strength to utter a single, “ _NO!_ ”

“He’s in there, isn’t he?” Stan said. Around them, everything had gone so, _so_ quiet. The fighting had died done, and the whole world seemed to be holding its breath. “That _god_ of yours? Stuck in that useless brain of mine.”

“You _idiot!_ ” Tappaz exclaimed. “Put that down, now!”

“Oh?” Stan managed a grin. “So I’m right. You really do need me to bring back that demonic cornchip. Y’know, it’s a shame these weak human bodies are so squishy…”

Malakh’s hold on Ford was faltering. He dropped to the ground, grasping at his throat.

“Stanley, _no!_ ” he cried, hoarsely. “Don’t do this, _don’t!_ ”

Stan’s eyes flicked over to Ford, then back to Malakh. “So I’m offerin’ you a deal. You let my family an’ all those nice people of the rebellion go, without hurting a hair on their heads. In exchange, I don’t blow my brains out.”

“NO! Stanley, _stop!_ ”

Tappaz laughed. “If you think we’re going to simply let you—”

“ _Deal_ ,” Malakh rasped.

“What?!” Tappaz whirled on her. “My lady, how could you—”

She silenced him with a glare, and the pressure around Ford’s throat let up. Immediately, he rushed to his feet, shouting all the while, “ _I won’t let you lay a finger on him!_ ”

Malakh easily evaded his assault. She kept her expression carefully neutral—no, there was a hint of something on her face, something like… _pity_. The sight of it made Ford’s blood boil. He snarled, lunging at her again.

“ _Oh, someone, shut him up!_ ” he heard Tappaz shrieking.

Malakh’s staff swung into view, rushing toward Ford’s head. He fell to oblivion to the sounds of Stanley’s screams.


	14. Chapter 14

Once upon a time, Fiddleford Hadron McGucket could devote his entire attention to one single project.

It had been a problem for sure in his younger years, back when he had preferred getting lost into his own brain thinking of new schematics rather than watch over the hogs like his Ma had asked of him. Things had gotten better in school, but not much. His teachers hadn’t been very impressed to see him doodling equations in the margins of his textbooks rather than listen in class. He’d been happier in college; there, his creativity had been rewarded, and his dedication to his work had earned him many commendations.

Not to mention, college was also where he had met—

Fiddleford’s gaze snapped back to the monitors on his desk. What had he been doing? Ah, yes. Directing the crab bots so they could repair the portal in his stead. Once upon a time, Fiddleford could have accomplished that goal in a manner of days. Now…

Fiddleford blinked, suddenly realizing that he had once again been staring at one screen without doing anything. One of the bots was sending him a query, asking him about his next task. Fiddleford squinted, trying to remember just what needed to be done. His head was hurting, like it always did whenever he was trying to remember a particularly obstinate memory.

Yet, he _had_ to focus. The lives of four innocent people depended on Fiddleford repairing that goshdarn portal. To remind himself of this goal, Fiddleford often pictured the faces of those two sweet children and their grumpy old conman of an uncle. It was harder, in a lot of ways, to think of the fourth member of that family, even if it was the one Fiddleford knew the most.

Remembering Stanford Pines was like picking at a scab. Maybe removing it would only leave a faded scar. Or maybe it would end up in an open wound, fresh blood gushing through. Fiddleford closed his eyes, sighing. In his mind’s eye, he saw a bright-eyed young man with a shy grin. That youth had been so hesitant to shake his new roommate’s hand.

(“ _Hello. I’m Stanford Pines. N-Nice to meet you._ ”)

It was hard to reconcile that meek college student with the arrogant researcher who had downplayed Fiddleford’s fears at every turn. Even harder to believe that it was the same man as the sixty-something survivor who had felt so unworthy of Fiddleford’s forgiveness.

 _(“I haven’t seen you since we parted ways. You must hate me…”_ )

It was this last memory—remembering that tired old man with the sad eyes—that strengthened Fiddleford’s resolve and made him keep going. If he deserved a second chance, so did Stanford Pines.

There was another insistent beeping sound from his headset. Oh, yes! The bot, he had to send instructions to the bot! Now, what had he been about to type, again…?

Fiddleford was drawn out of his thoughts by a knock. “C’min, c’min!” he said, absently. Was it Sherry bringing him lunch? Or Tate, coming to say he was leaving for work? Sadly, it probably wasn’t baby Harper; Fiddleford hadn’t seen her for days, and _, oh_ , being reminded of that was like being shot in the heart and—

“McGucket?” a girl’s voice said. “You’re still up?”

Fiddleford blinked. Was it night already? Belatedly, he noticed that the only sources of light in the room came from his monitors.

“Pacifica?” he said, whirling in his chair. “What can Ah do fer ya?”

Pacifica crossed her arms, tapping her foot. A small, reptilian head peeked from behind her, making an inquisitive sound. Her little alien critter followed her everywhere, like she was his momma. Seeing them together was goshdarn adorable, but Fiddleford knew Pacifica would murder him if he ever said it aloud.

“It’s _late_. Did you even eat tonight?”

“Ah did eat,” Fiddleford said. “Sherry brought me dinner earlier, ‘member?”

She spared a disdainful glance to Fiddleford’s half-eaten plate. “Sure. Because half a potato and one third of a steak can be considered a nutritious dinner.” She scrunched up her nose. “And when was the last time you slept?”

“Well, Ah’ve had some shut-eye a few hours ago—”

“I mean, in a real _bed_ ,” Pacifica insisted.

Fiddleford stared blankly at her. “Ah dunno. Does it matter? There’s work tha’s need doin’.”

“Yeah, and how’s that progressing?” Pacifica said.

“W-Well, tha’s…” Fiddleford stuttered. “A’ight, ev’rythin’ not goin’ as fast as Ah hoped. Which is why Ah need to pull an all-nighter, y’see!”

“Another one?”

“Another…?” Had he worked a full shift last night too? “Um…”

“Ugh. Everybody’s too nice to say it, but they’re all worried sick about you. Soos keeps whining that he’s got no one to watch anime with him. Sherry is starting to think something’s wrong with her cooking. And your son, well, I think he’s getting angry.”

“…is he, now?” Fiddleford said, very quietly.

It was obvious; Tate probably believed his father was once again choosing Stanford Pines over his own family. Fiddleford could not fault him for entertaining such a notion. What kind of man abandoned his wife and child to help an old college roommate with some harebrained scheme? None of the answers were particularly flattering for Fiddleford.

“A’ight,” Fiddleford conceded. It was strange to have other people fussing over him. Strange, and somewhat comforting. “Ah’ll take a break.”

He was a bit shameful to see the relief flooding Pacifica’s face. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that she had been worried as well.

“Good,” she said. “I want to save Dipper, Mabel and their uncles as much as the next person, but you won’t be of use to anyone if you kill yourself on the job.”

“Heh!” Fiddleford said. “Ah’m a bit tougher than I look, kiddo. Bit like a cockroach, Ah guess.”

Pacifica made a face. “Don’t say that about yourself, that sounds gross.” She stared at the screens, looking a little wistful. “Do you think we’ll pull it off? Saving the twins and their uncles, I mean?”

Fiddleford frowned. She was so aloof it was easy to forget sometimes how young she was. Poor girl had learned early to fend off for herself. She had been failed by her parents… just like Tate had been failed by his father. It was time for Fiddleford to pick up the slack and make sure he would not make the same mistake twice.

“Ah can’t say,” he answered. “But we’ll keep tryin’. Tha’s how we’ve gotten this far, isn’t it? One day at a time, one step before the other.”

“For so long, you were the crazy coot living in the dump,” Pacifica said, looking askance. “Now you sound so reasonable. That memory gun… it’s really freaky…”

“That it is,” Fiddleford admitted. “But it’s like young Soos said. There’s always a silver linin’. In the end, Ah’m glad it helped Fordsie and his brother get rid of that demon.”

“Right,” Pacifica said with a slight smile. “You know, Candy said she could help if you showed her how all of this works. And…” Her cheeks coloured a little, and she hastily tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. “I can help, too. I don’t know much about computers or robots, but I’m not _dumb_. I can learn.”

Fiddleford grinned at her. “Sure ya can! Ah’ll be happy to teach the two of you!”

That was the nice thing with second chances.

It was much easier having another go at things with other people supporting you.

* * *

The first thing that registered in Ford’s consciousness was a dull ache on the side of his head. He groaned, trying to make sense of the muffled sounds coming to his ears. There were… voices? And the hum of an engine?

Ford felt something warm over his forehead. A hand? A _small_ hand, by the look of it. After much struggling, Ford managed to crack his eyes open. He was wearing his glasses, but it took some time for everything to come into focus. A face was hovering above his, and long brown hair tickled at his cheeks. His awakening prompted a smile from the girl.

“Oh!” Mabel said, and she crushed Ford in a quick hug. “You’re awake, you’re finally awake! I’m so glad!”

Dipper was also kneeling by his sister’s side. He offered a wobbling smile to Ford. “H-Hey, Grunkle Ford… how are you feeling?”

Wincing, Ford managed to sit up. His head felt rather woozy, and the scenery passed by at a dizzying pace. Understanding trickled down his mind. He was in a hovercraft, alongside his nephew and niece.

Kyan was also there, apparently. “Oh, Mr. Ford! Be careful, I’ve managed to stop the bleeding, but you were hurt pretty badly!”

“I was hurt pretty badly—” Ford repeated, slowly working the meaning of those words.

And everything came back in a flash, hitting him like a bolt of lightning.

Malakh and her staff. Tappaz’s smirk. And worst, _worst_ of all, Stanley putting the barrel of that gun over his temple.

Stanley. In Ford’s head rang his screams. _Where was Stanley?_

“W-Where, where… ” Ford began, feeling a mounting panic. “ _Where is he? Where is Stanley?!_ ”

“Whoa, easy, old man!” another voice said. Kyan’s sister. She was steering the hovercraft, it seemed. “Kyan’s right, just relax! You lost a lot of blood!”

“Turn this vehicle around,” he growled at her. When she only frowned in response, he repeated, more forcefully, “ _I said, turn it around!_ ”

“Fine, fine!” The hovercraft came to a screeching halt. Ford noted belatedly that two other vehicles crawled to a stop beside them. They were filled with wide-eyed prisoners and exhausted-looking rebels.

“Why have you stopped?” came Yaspa’s authoritative voice. She pushed her way through the crowd of silent onlookers, before hopping into the hovercraft carrying Ford and his family. “We need to put as much distance as we can between—”

“Is my brother still there?” Ford asked through grit teeth. “ _Is he?_ Or did you just hand him over to those lunatics to save your own sorry skins?”

“He gave himself up,” Yaspa said. “In exchange for our safety. Your brother _saved_ us.”

Ford hissed out a curse. “Take me back there. _Now_.”

“It’s no use, Grunkle Ford,” said Dipper. “They’re gone. _Grunkle_ _Stan_ is gone.”

“No,” Ford said, hobbling back to his feet. “No, no, _no_ …”

“I’m sorry,” Yaspa said, reaching out to Ford as if to comfort him. “I know what you’re going through, I understand your anger—”

Ford let out an inarticulate sound of rage. “No, you _don’t!_ You’ve just doomed us all!”

“Grunkle Ford, _please_ ,” Mabel said, tugging on his coat.

Yaspa had visibly paled. “What, what do you mean? Thanks to your brother, we’re finally safe from the Eye of Dawn—“

“Safe?!” Ford shouted. “ _SAFE?!_ You think Bill Cipher will just let us be once he takes over my brother’s body?!”

His words were met with a stunned silence. Ford didn’t care that he must have looked like a maniac, he only kept shouting, jabbing a finger angrily at Yaspa.

“Bill won’t rest until all of us are dead! You think you’ve suffered at the hands of his followers? You think you’ve seen the true depths of cruelty? Well, you’ve seen _nothing!_ Everything Bill does, all he cares about… it’s to make us his playthings, to toy with our lives! You, me, those people, my _family_ … we’re all dead once Cipher finds us!”

To her credit, Yaspa appeared rather shaken. “B-But you said Bill Cipher was _dead_ …”

Ford felt a small pair of hands over his arm. “Grunkle Ford?” Mabel said, in a tiny, _tiny_ voice. “Please stop shouting. It’s scary…”

Ford stared mutely at her for a moment. The same anxious, no, _fearful_ expression could also be seen on her twin’s face. Dozens of eyes were fixed on Ford, all filled with confusion and fright. Some of Yaspa’s people tensed, as if anticipating a fight, while others cowered behind their companions.

Ford felt his anger deflating. “I’m sorry, my dear,” he told his niece, as softly as he could. “You’re right, I won’t help any of us by panicking. We need to focus on finding a solution.”

Dipper gave several little nods, before taking his journal from under his hat, flipping through the pages. “O-Okay, so we need to find a way to stop Bill from taking over Grunkle Stan’s mind, r-right? Is there, like, a ritual spell for exorcizing demons?”

Everyone turned to Kyan. The boy pointedly stared at his boots, looking like he very much wanted to burrow underground. “I-I really can’t say…”

“Lady Jheselbraum would have known for certain,” Yaspa said with a sigh.

An idea struck Ford. “Her temple. Would we find more information there?”

“Of course,” said Yaspa. “She was the most accomplished scholar of magic among us, and she devoted a lot of her time to sharing that knowledge.”

“Then, road trip to the Oracle’s temple?” Mabel said, attempting a smile.

Ford squeezed her shoulder. “Road trip to the Oracle’s temple, yes.” He turned to Yaspa, his face going grim. “Meanwhile, you could prepare for our assault on the Temple of Dawn.”

“Our assault?” Yaspa repeated, deadpan. “Are you out of your mind?”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Ford said. “That high priestess might honour Stanley’s wishes for now, but that deal won’t hold for long. Especially if they do manage to bring Bill Cipher back.”

“This is insane,” Yaspa said, shaking her head. “I won’t send my people to the slaughter—”

“C’mon, Yaspa!” Zuri said. “I know you’re still hung up about what happened to Ammat, but—”

“Don’t say her name!” Yaspa snapped. “Don’t!”

“Zuri’s right!” Kyan added. “We don’t know what happened! Maybe she’s still alive! Maybe we could save her and my p-parents and everyone else who was captured!”

“Yeah!” Zuri said with a fierce grin. “I’m with the weird two-eyed old man. Let’s kick the asses of those Dawn freaks! Who’s with me?”

Her words prompted mutters of assent from the prisoners and the other rebels. Soon, all of them were talking excitedly among themselves. How many of them had lost loved ones to the Eye of Dawn, Ford wondered?

“Alright,” Yaspa eventually said, voice breaking. “I won’t go against your wishes. But for now, we should just return to a safer place and prepare. We all need rest. Fighting against the Eye of Dawn won’t be easy.” Her expression darkened. “Or, more precisely, fighting _her_ won’t be easy.”

“She was one of Jheselbraum’s acolytes, wasn’t she?” Ford remembered a skittish little thing with bright green eyes. It was so evident now, in hindsight. “Their high priestess, I mean.”

“She was a _traitor_ ,” Yaspa spat. “She brought the brutes of the Eye of Dawn inside the temple. She’s responsible for everything that’s happened to us, _everything_.”

Something nagged at Ford, like a half-remembered dream. He frowned. Or a half-remembered _memory_. A flash of blue lightning, a demented cackle leaving a girl’s mouth. A woman looking sadly at him, tears falling upward from her eyes.

“Great Uncle Ford?” Dipper said, his voice snapping him away from his memories. “Are you alright?”

Ford sat down, his legs suddenly feeling weak as jelly. “I… I don’t know... perhaps your friend Kyan is right. I should take it easy, for now.”

It struck him, suddenly, how little he remembered of the time he’d first left Dimension 52. He recalled drinking with the Oracle, making a fool out of himself, hearing the crystalline tinkle of her laughter… but not much else. For ten years, he hadn’t thought back of that night; he had been drunk, of course, there had been holes in his memory.

Cold horror swept over him. What had happened, that night?

Had he seen what had befallen the Oracle, only to forget about it?

Ford groaned, massaging his aching temples. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to waste time and energy on retrieving half-forgotten memories just after he’d suffered from a grievous head injury.

The twins came to sit beside him, unusually quiet. They gave no cheerful speech about hope and dreams. They struck no heroic pose to inspire the people around them, they offered no plucky declaration about how they would save Stan from the clutches of those evil cultists. Ford sighed, suddenly feeling weary. Of course they wouldn’t. They were _children_. Children whisked away from everything they had ever known, children who were fighting against adults who would gladly see them dead, children who were worried sick about someone they loved.

They had supported Ford every step of his arduous journey back to sanity. It was time for him to pick up the slack and be the guardian they deserved.

Ford put one arm around each twin. “We’re going to get him back, don’t you worry. I’ll keep you safe and I’ll bring all of us home. That’s a promise.”

Mabel snuggled against him, closing her eyes. Dipper hugged his knees, stubbornly staring ahead.

“We’ll pull through,” Ford told them, more firmly. This time, he almost believed in his own words. “We always do.”

* * *

“ _Stuck in a ho-ver-craft_ ,” Stan sang, bouncing his head to the rhythm. “ _Bag over my head, can’t see a thi-ing!_ ”

“What in the world is he going on about?” Stan heard Tappaz said. “Ugh! I can’t take much more of his mumbling!”

“ _Doo-doo-doo_ ,” Stan continued. “ _Getting hard to breathe, might die and leave_ —”

“Oh, for the love of—” There was the sound of footsteps, and someone removed the bag from Stan’s head. “There?” Tappaz griped. “Happy?”

“Eh,” Stan said with a shrug, glancing at his surroundings. Their vehicle was heading toward the Temple of Dawn, but not from the path crossing the plaza. Stan hid a scowl. He had counted on them parading him into town, figuring that they would probably want to feed on the hype they had been building around their ‘prophesized saviour’. Instead, it seemed they had done their best to keep him away from his adoring fans. Stan had planned to send an impassioned plea to the citizens of the city, imploring them to take up the fight against the Eye of Dawn and save him from their evil clutches.

Oh well. Time to improvise. Story of Stan’s life.

The temple was oddly empty as they dragged Stan into the entrance hall, leading him to an inconspicuous doorway at the back of the room. To his surprise, the doors parted to reveal an _elevator_ , of all things. Stan groaned. Well, hell, of course those numbskulls had elevators, they had _flying cars_. He really was stuck in a bad sci-fi movie.

Dread churned in the pit of his stomach as they forced him inside. Of course, Malakh, that freak Tappaz and the two orange goons dragging Stan around weren’t exactly helping. Tappaz kept sending Stan self-satisfied smirks, while Malakh… Well, Stan didn’t get what was going on with this lady, but frankly she didn’t seem entirely _there_. Stan inhaled sharply to tell his body to _calm the hell down_. He had to find something to focus on, because otherwise—

Because otherwise, all Stan would think about would be the sound that staff had made when it had collided with Ford’s skull, that sickening _crunch_. All Stan would think about was how his brother had fallen like a stone, and how he’d just laid there, a pool of blood forming beneath his head. All Stan would think about was how he had screamed himself hoarse when they had pulled him away from Ford’s unmoving form before he could check if his twin was breathing, if his twin still had a pulse, if his twin still was _alive_ —

Stan’s hands had started to shake. _Dammit_. One more minute of this, and he’d be stuck in a full-blown panic attack. So Stan drew another breath, forced a smile, and said, “Hey, did I ever tell you about that book on gravity I read recently? It was impossible to put down, you know. _Impossible to put down_. Get it?”

There wasn’t a laugh—not even a snort. Tappaz, however, visibly stiffened. Stan narrowed his eyes, undeterred by the cold reception.

“How about… whaddya call someone with no body and no nose? Nobody knows!” Stan elbowed one of the guys in the ribs. “Eh? _Eh?!_ Funny, isn’t it?”

Of course, with those stupid masks on, Stan couldn’t see if those jokers were even cracking a smile. He noticed, however, that one of Tappaz’s eyes was twitching. Stan’s lips eased into an evil grin.

“’kay, so here’s another one. Why did the invisible man turn down the job offer? He couldn't see himself doing it!” Stan waited for a bit for the joke to sink in, before forcing out a laugh. “Hah! I got a whole book of those, right here,” he said, tapping his skull. “Aren’tcha a bunch of lucky schmucks, learning a few Stan Pines-patented jokes free of charge!”

Tappaz let out a noise of frustration, whirling toward Stan. “Ugh! Shut it! Shut it, shut it, _shut it!_ No more of your ‘jokes’, whatever they are!”

“Awright,” Stan said, still smiling. “No more jokes, I get it.” For a moment, he stayed silent, and only the whirring of the elevator filled the air. Then, he turned to one of his captors, saying, “So, ever heard of that show, _The Duchess Approves_? That’s some damn good television, I tell ya, wanna hear about it?”

It was infinitely satisfying to see that dumbass Tappaz trying to contain what appeared to be a bitchfit of epic proportions while Stan described in nitty-gritty details the fictional lives of posh British people. One of the guards expressed a certain interest when Stan told him about the moment Duchess Elizabeth had passive aggressively ousted her evil stepsister, the Countess of Fuggestbinshireland, from Earl Tiptonhamston’s engagement party. Stan was all too happy to recap the entire episode, complete with Lord Darcyflumptam’s showstopper (and award-winning) monologue about his doomed love for the Duchess’ now dead father.

That was the tipping point, apparently. Tappaz grabbed Stan by both shoulders, shouting “SHUUUT UUUP!”

Stan’s grin turned into a scowl. He wasn’t too keen on having the guy spitting all over his face. “Sheesh, someone needs counselling for his anger management issues. What’s your prob, bub? Did I break into your house to murder your dog?”

In response, all Tappaz did was scream again. Stan hid a grin in response.

With a click and a beeping sound, the elevator came to a stop. Tappaz motioned for the guards to drag Stan forward, and they obeyed without hesitation, using more force than necessary. Stan grit his teeth; he was sure he’d find palm-sized bruises around his arms first thing in the morning tomorrow.

The basement offered a stark contrast to the rest of the temple. While the top part had looked ancient, in a way that incited reverence, everything here seemed right out of a stupid sci-fi TV set. The walls and ceiling were made of a metallic material, and glowing green lines ran under their feet and over their heads.

Soon, they arrived at a door, one that slid open to reveal a catwalk. The space underneath was so vast that Stan could not see where the full extent of its depths. There was only one source of light here; large cables leading to the darkness below, occasionally flaring with the same green glow Stan had seen in the walls and ceiling before. Stan squinted as he stared into the darkness, straining to hear. What was that? Voices coming from below?

Or, more precisely, _moans of pain?_

Stan felt an immediate chill down his spine. “Wait, wait, wait, are there _people_ down there…?”

Tappaz turned to him. “Oh, so you would like to know?” At Stan’s horrified expression, he burst into laughter.

“What do all those cables do?” Stan asked, well aware that he was probably not going to like the answer.

“Why, now he finally decides to get serious.”

Tappaz offered nothing else but a derisive smirk as they crossed the length of the catwalk. In front of them, Malakh staggered forward, seeming to be getting slower with each step she took. As they reached another doorway, Tappaz came up to her, faking concern.

“My lady, perhaps you should take some rest. You could replenish a little while we deal with this… _miscreant_ …”

 _Replenish?_ Stan thought, stomach suddenly queasy. _What does that even mean?_ “D’you even hear the way you’re talkin’?” he said instead, forcing out a snort. “ _Miscreant_ , who even says that stuff?”

Malakh wavered a bit on her spot. “Yes, you’re right… bring him to his… _quarters_ , I’ll join you shortly…”

She leaned on the handrail as if it was the only way for her to remain upright. Without meaning to, Stan caught her eye as the doors slid close. Her scars looked even harsher in this dim light, the deformed skin stretched tautly over her cheekbones. But her single eye was as piercing as ever.

Stan tried not to dwell much on her expression as he was brought to a cold, sterile room. The harsh white light flickered as they pushed Stan inside. His heart leaped into his throat; in the middle of the room, there was a metallic, rectangular surface, one with shackles fastened at each corner.

 _Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…_ “H-Hey,” he began, faking a laugh, “I know some people are into this stuff, but, uh, I’m really not. I promise I won’t make a fuss, no need to shackle me or whatever…”

Tappaz rolled his eyes in response. He gestured at the two guardsmen with a tilt of the head. They flung Stan on his back, the cold surface of the bed knocking the air out of his lungs. As they fastened the shackles around his wrists and heels, Stan glared at Tappaz.

“Huh,” the yellow-robed man said. “No quip, no insult?”

“Nah,” Stan said. “Just imagining how sweet it’s gonna be when me and my brother beat the snot outta you.”

“Brother?” Tappaz said with a frown. “Ah, yes, your… _sibling_. In your world, a mated pair might have multiple children. I’d forgotten. You’re like animals in that regard.”

“You’re really a _joy_ to be with, ain’tcha, pal,” Stan said. “You know, now I wish I’d learned more Yiddish insults from my mom. They would have come in handy right now. I don’t think there’s a word in the English language that can properly tell just how much of an asshole you are.”

Tappaz grimaced. “How could one such as you contain the magnificence of our master? It boggles the mind…”

“Magnificence? We talking about the same guy here? Triangle fella, screams all the time like the used-car dealer of your nightmares?”

Before Tappaz could sputter an answer, the door slid open. Malakh came inside, her gait slightly more assured. Still, her cheeks were pale, and sweat beaded at her brow.

“Lady Malakh!” Tappaz exclaimed. “You could have taken more time to recover from your fight, I had the situation under control—”

“No,” Malakh interrupted him. “Time grows short. We have only five days remaining until…”

“’Til what?” Stan said, fishing for an answer. He wondered why she was so forthcoming with that information. Maybe she was just being dumb. Or maybe—and Stan swallowed nervously at this possibility—she was just _that_ convinced of their victory.

“Until what we’ve hoped for finally comes to pass,” she answered.

“I still can’t believe it,” Tappaz said, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “Our shared dream, so close to being fulfilled! Perhaps our master will reward me for the role I’ve played in assuring his return!”

“Your time would be better spent praying that you never get his attention,” Malakh said, in a strangely flat voice.

“What?” Tappaz said, blinking stupidly. “My lady, what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re a dumbass,” Stan said. “What part of chaos demon don’t you get? You really want someone like ‘im to boss you around?”

“Of course! Why, unlike you, I’d be honoured to serve as Lord Cipher’s vessel!”

“ _Woof_. I just met the guy once, and already I know he would eat you for breakfast. It’s almost funny how dumb you are, pal.”

Malakh was looking at Stan with her head tilted. “Yes, I see it now. I could find no trace of him in your brother, but it’s different with you. It’s not surprising, considering what you are.”

“ _What_ I am?” Stan said. “The hell’s that s’posed to mean?”

Rather than answer, Malakh cupped his cheek with one hand. “It’s a shame your form is so… unsuitable. Still, it will have to do.”

“Unsuitable?! That’s a shitty thing to say, lady!”

“There is one way to make his form more suitable,” that bastard Tappaz said. “How many eyes does Master Cipher have?”

“Just enough to see all,” Malakh murmured. She raised a shaky hand over her face, and Stan could see her only remaining eye peering through her spread fingers. “That’s what he said when _he_ …” 

“Wait,” said Stan, “you’re not planning to…” He started to strain against his shackles. “Oh, _shit!_ You really don’t need to—oh man, I swear, I’ll shut up!”

“Bring me the necessary tools. I’ll do it myself.” She looked at Stan, face void of any expression. “It’s the least I owe you, vessel.”

“C’mon, lady! Can’t we make a deal or somethin’?!”

One of her creepy cultist drones was coming back to the room, holding a long metal poker. Stan let out a string of curses, thrashing against his restraints.

Malakh took the rod in her hands, inspecting its pointed tip. “Master Cipher has never minded when his vessels were in pain.” She was oddly gentle as she removed Stan’s glasses. “Oh, I _remember_. I remember how he _relished_ in that feeling.”

She raised the metal tip above Stan’s eye, and he screamed.


	15. Chapter 15

Wendy always checked on the Shack on her way home.

Considering she lived nearby, she had the perfect excuse if the government agents caught her snooping. Wendy was glad to be doing something productive; McGucket didn’t need her now that he had Pacifica and Candy to serve as his assistants, and Soos was helping Melody write a formal complaint to the authorities (she still believed it would lead somewhere, the poor soul).

It was _hard_ , however, to keep herself from slashing the tires of those stupid black-tinted cars. Wendy was willing to repress her most spiteful urges, for the sake of Dipper and Mabel and the Stans. She sure hoped they’d be grateful for all those lofty sacrifices when they would finally get back.

These past few days, things had been quiet at the Shack, boring even. The few agents she had encountered on her way home hadn’t given her much trouble, and yesterday, there had been no asshole in black duds and sunglasses creeping outside.

Today, however, the place was crawling with those jerks.

The agents were helping unload crates from a large truck, one with black tinted windows as well. Wendy saw them taking out components from the boxes and assembling a large mechanical device. What was that thing? McGucket would have known, maybe even Candy.

Wendy snuck closer, thinking she could to send them a few pictures of the strange equipment. She grit her teeth, stifling a curse. These assholes were _everywhere_ , and she’d never been any good at stealth (it wasn’t exactly a skill her dad tended to have them practise on their apocalypse preppin’ expeditions). Finally, Wendy found what she thought was a good hiding spot. She took out her phone and—

Wendy felt something swooping over her. The air was knocked out of her lungs as she hit the ground. Two hands were pinning her down, stopping her from getting up.

“ _Hey!_ ” she yelled, managing a look over her shoulder. “ _What the hell, man?!_ ”

It was the red-haired agent. The bruise on his face had started to heal; Wendy was sorely tempted to give him a matching one on the other side.

“Huh,” he said. “Just one of these kids. What are you doing snooping around?”

“Snooping?” Wendy said. “I was on my way home! _And_ _stop touching me, you creep!_ ”

To his credit, the guy did let her go. Wendy stood up, glowering at him. Her glare faltered when she saw him holding her phone, but only slightly; she didn’t get to be the worst troublemaker at school by having a weakass poker face.

Other agents were approaching them, no doubt curious about the commotion. Among them was that Dryer lady. As always, her face was set in a perfect mask of indifference.

“Hello, Ms. Corduroy,” she told Wendy. “Are you alright?”

“What do you _think?_ ” Wendy shot back. “D’you guys enjoy assaulting teenagers or something?”

Ginger Dude snorted. “You’re interfering with our work, kiddo.”

“What _work?_ From what I’ve seen, all you do is dick around and be a huge pain in the ass for everyone. Why don’t you just go home already?”

“I’m afraid we’ve only started,” Ginger Dude said. He glanced at Wendy’s phone. “Now, be honest and we’ll let you be on your way. What were you doing?”

“What, so checking on the Shack on my way home is forbidden, now?” Wendy said. “My friend Soos, he’s been worried sick, he’s afraid you guys are gonna tear the place down or something.”

“Why would we do that?” Ginger Dude said, sounding mildly amused. “As if we need to rip a house off its foundation to learn what we need. Teens these days, always happy to pretend that authority figures are villains from a kids’ movie…”

“You kicked my friend and his family out of their home!” Wendy growled. “That’s evil enough!”

“Don’t antagonize civilians, Blauer” Agent Dryer told Ginger Dude. “Especially underage civilians.” She then turned to Wendy. “I’m sorry for Mr. Ramirez, but we’re doing this for his own good as well. Our job is to keep all of you safe.”

“ _Safe?_ From what?!”

Dryer shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I cannot tell you. It’s classified information. You should be going now. Please do remind Mr. Ramirez that he will be compensated for his trouble.” She inclined her head. “Good day, Ms. Corduroy.”

Wendy snatched her phone from the hands of Agent Blauer. “Yeah, well, screw all of you.” And she turned on her heel, not even fighting the urge to offer them a one-fingered salute as she went.

It was only when she was deep inside the woods that Wendy stopped, a certain realization creeping up on her.

_Why would we do that? As if we need to rip a house off its foundation to learn what we need._

Oh. Now she knew the purpose of that contraption.

Wendy shouted a curse at the top of her lungs, startling more than a few woodland animals.

* * *

“Are you sure you’re strong enough to make the journey?” Yaspa told Ford as they made their final preparations for their trek up the mountain. “Kyan’s healed your wound, yes, but—”

“I’ll be fine,” said Ford. “I _have_ to be.”

In truth, he felt groggy and nauseous. All Ford wanted right now was a nap. But his current state was nothing compared to the horror of having his brother in the hands of those fanatics. Ford had survived days of torture from his worst enemy; he could endure the world’s worst headache for the sake of his brother.

“If you say so,” Yaspa said. “You know, a part of me feels like I should be angry with you. For lying about the reason why the Eye of Dawn were after your family.”

“Is that so?” Ford said, keeping his tone neutral.

Yaspa shook her head. “Considering your circumstances, I understand why you were so cautious. I can’t criticize you. I would have done the same.”

Ford flung his bag over his shoulder, managing a smile. “Thank you. For everything.”

“We’ll prepare for the assault while you’re gone,” Yaspa said. “Keep Zuri and Kyan out of trouble. I owe their parents that much. And… good luck, Stanford Pines.”

“You too,” Ford said, nodding.

By then, four figures were heading toward Ford and Yaspa. Mabel ran up to Ford, giving him a quick hug.

“We’ve got everything!” she told him. “Food, blankets, as much weapons as we could fit in our backpacks… it’ll be like going on a camping trip!” Her smile faltered a little. “’Cept for Grunkle Stan being in the clutches of an evil cult while we’re—”

“Mabel,” Ford said, dropping to his knees and putting a hand over her shoulders. “It’ll be alright. Stanley is a tough customer. He’ll manage to hold on until we get to him, don’t you worry.”

“How do you know?” Dipper said, frowning.

“Knowing him, he’s probably doing what I did when Bill captured me,” Ford continued. “I told Bill that I knew how he could collapse the barrier around Gravity Falls.”

“Why did you do that?” Dipper asked.

“Because that would force him to keep me alive,” Ford answered. “And, more importantly, because I knew he wouldn’t kill the two of you and Stan if there was any chance he could use you three as a bargaining chip against me.”

“So he's trying to do the same,” Dipper said, finally understanding.

“Knowing Stan, he’ll stall them as long as he could,” Ford said. “He’ll pretend Bill is still present, somewhere in his mind.”

“Is he, though?” Mabel said, in a very little voice.

Ford took a deep breath. With great difficulty, he said, “I won’t lie to you. Bill _might_ be alive in Stan’s mind.”

The children stared mutely at him. They looked so young, so _vulnerable_. Ford wished he could have protected them better.

“Or he might be truly gone,” he continued. “I don’t know. Regardless, those Eye of Dawn people are dangerous. We need to rescue Stan as quickly as possible.”

“And rescue him we shall!” Mabel said, punching in the air. “Let’s do this, guys!”

“I’m all set,” Zuri said, stretching. “What about you, twig?”

“Don’t call me that,” Kyan mumbled. “Um, Dipper, I was thinking… I could help you practise a bit more on the way? That would help us save your uncle, right?”

“What’s the point?” Dipper said. “I _can’t_ do magic. I’m just a dumb human who can’t even—” He let out a noise of irritation. “Ugh, let’s just get going, okay?”

Mabel brought him into a one-armed hug. “Sure thing, brobro! C’mon, everyone, adventure awaits!”

* * *

She continued to be in a surprisingly cheery mood as they climbed the mountain trail leading to the Oracle’s temple. If this had been last year, Ford would have been impressed by the strength of her spirit. Now that he knew his niece better, it only left him with a deep wistfulness.

“—when we get back, well, first off I’m gonna eat all the pancakes in the world!” she told Kyan and Zuri; both siblings were slightly glassy-eyed. “No, wait, I should pro’bly call Mom and Dad, tell them how much we’ve enjoyed our summer vacation so far. _Then_ , I’ll eat all the pancakes!”

Kyan’s smile was a bit forced as she continued the list of things she was looking forward too once they would be back home. He glanced at his sister, who shrugged.

“Oh, oh, and we’ll have sleepovers, like, every night! I’ll invite my girls over to watch movies and talk about our crushes and—”

“What’s a moo-vee?” Kyan asked her.

As she rambled on about the topic (and about why teen comedies of the 80s were the height of cinema), Dipper sidled over to Ford.

“I dunno how she does it,” Dipper muttered. “I know I _can’t_. I thought things were finally starting to look up, you know, I thought things would finally be alright, but…”

“But?” Ford prompted.

Dipper’s shoulders slumped forward. “Is it always like that? You think you’re starting to get better, but then another bad thing happens and you go back all the way to step one? Do we ever get a break? Can’t we have nice things happening once in a while?”

“Of course,” said Ford. “Don’t doubt that for a second.”

“Yeah, so, you’re not just saying that to make me feel better? That’s a thing you grown-ups do, you pretend everything’s hunky-dory because you don’t want us kids to feel bad or anything.” Under his breath, Dipper added, “It’s starting to get really annoying, too…”

“I’m not spouting some platitudes, no,” Ford replied. “I’m speaking from experience. What you described… well, it just sums up the last thirty years of my life, you know?”

Dipper’s cheeks coloured. “Oh. _Oh_. Man, I’m stupid. Grunkle Ford, I didn’t mean to—”

“There’s no need to apologize.” Ford chuckled. “You had no way of knowing that I felt that way. I’m not always forthcoming with my emotions. Stanley says I tend to—” Ford made air quotes with his fingers, “—‘ _brood’_ too much.”

He was happy to hear Dipper give a little laugh. “So? Things got better for you? Even after all the bad stuff that happened?”

“Of course they did. You’re the very proof of that. You and your sister.”

Dipper’s eyes went wide. “Really?”

“My boy, the moment I stepped out of that portal, you called me family. Do you know what a precious gift the two of you have given me?”

“Of course we consider you family, you’re our uncle,” Dipper said. Then, he blinked, finally realizing the meaning of Ford’s words. “Except it doesn’t always _mean_ anything, does it? Soos’ dad didn’t care about him. And I’ve got a feeling Great-Grandpa Filbrick wasn’t exactly the best of fathers either.”

“No,” Ford said grimly, not exactly wanting to delve into _that_ topic, “he wasn’t.”

“So, like, when Mabel and me, we accepted you as family, then…”

“It was the proof the universe was still willing to let me be happy,” Ford completed. “Or at least, that’s how it felt to me.”

Dipper managed a slight smile. “Heh. That’s so sappy. Alright. I’ll try to see it your way.”

“Hey!” a voice called from ahead. Mabel was waving to them. “We’ll get there first if you two dorks don’t catch up soon!”

“It’s not a race, Mabel!” Dipper said.

“In fact, maybe we should be taking a break,” Ford told the children. “Eat a bit, rest our legs.”

“Getting tired, old man?” Zuri said with a grin.

“Sis!” Kyan chided her. “He’s recovering from a serious injury! Don’t be disrespectful!”

Zuri looked at her little brother like he had grown a second head. Still, Kyan held on her gaze with a scowl of his own.

“Pff, I was kidding!” Zuri sat down with a snort. “Got nothing against Gun Grandpa here. I’m glad he showed up, actually.”

“…’Gun Grandpa’?” Ford repeated, slightly dismayed.

The other kids sat down next to Zuri. Kyan was rummaging through his pack, while Mabel stretched her arms, yawning.

“Why are you glad about Grunkle Ford being here?” Dipper asked Zuri.

Zuri took the ration bar her brother was handing over to her. “You guys have no idea how bad things were before you showed up. We were losing— _badly_. Yaspa had just given up, you know.”

“Of course she had,” Kyan said. “She was hurting because Ammat was—”

“I know that! But we’ve all lost people, so why—”

“Who’s Ammat?” Mabel asked between mouthfuls of rations.

Kyan and Zuri exchanged a long look.

“Yaspa’s wife,” the boy said in a sad mutter. “She’s the one who started the rebellion in the first place. Yaspa’s not been the same since she was taken.”

“Killed, you mean,” Zuri said.

Her words brought an uncomfortable silence. Kyan looked utterly miserable, but his sister just continued to eat in total indifference.

“ _Sooo_ …” Dipper began, in a clear attempt to change the subject, “got any story about your first time here, Great Uncle Ford? What kind of person was that Oracle Lady?”

Ford blinked, uncomfortable with the way the children were looking at him. “She seemed… like a good person. She saved my life. Is there more to tell?”

Something nagged at him, an impression that made his stomach turn. Had something truly happened that night, ten years ago? Or was it simply his deep-seated paranoia acting up again?

Mabel sighed. “Oh, I bet she was super sad that you had to leave. Was it all dramatic and stuff? Like a scene from a movie?”

“Actually, my memories of that night are, well, nonexistent,” Ford admitted.

“Why?” asked Mabel. “Did you hurt your head back then?”

“What? No, I don’t think so.”

Her frown deepened. “Do you have memory problems too?”

Ford immediately turned toward her. “No, no, no, no, no! I’m fine on that front, don’t worry, sweetheart! I was simply… well, drunk out of my mind, to make a short story…”

“On that cosmic sand thingie?” Dipper said, frowning.

For the umpteenth time, Ford wondered if his nephew knew the content of his journals by heart. “Um, well, yes… a terrible mistake, to be sure… ” Of all the things the boy could remember…

“So, what _do_ you recall about that night?” Dipper asked.

“As I said, not much,” Ford said. “I…”

A hazy image came to his mind, like something out of a dream. Jheselbraum’s face, struck with horror and remorse. Behind him, a great, pulsing blue light. His feet leaving the ground, pulled by something stronger than gravity.

“Something happened, definitely,” Ford continued. “I hadn’t thought about it that much, so I’d forgotten, but… something happened. I just can’t remember _what_. The Oracle seemed sad. And… scared, I think.”

“Oh,” Mabel said, looking down.

 _Great job, Stanford Pines_ , Ford berated himself. _From one depressing topic to the other…_

He was almost glad to call for the end of their break. They kept on walking for a few hours, before stopping to get some proper sleep. The two sets of siblings shared one blanket each. Ford dozed off not long after they fell asleep, his trench coat draped over him.

The next day, his headache had lessened somewhat. By then, they had gotten quite high enough up the mountain. The view here was _spectacular_. Distant peaks seemed as tall as molehills, while the trees of the shining forest below appeared as big as blades of grass. From this height, Ford could even see the lights of the city nestled deep in the neighbouring valley. Something clenched in his chest. No, he couldn’t think of his brother, trapped in that temple with those Cipher-worshipping nutcases. He had to trust in Stan. His twin had always been able to make the most out of every horrible situation. It was one of the things that made Stan, well, _Stan_.

 _That’s what you told yourself when Dad kicked him out of the house,_ the insidious voice of doubt whispered in Ford’s mind. _And we all saw how it turned out, didn’t we?_

Mabel was now teaching Kyan and his sister some of her favourite pop songs to pass the time. Even Dipper joined in the fun, and soon the four kids were belting out a terribly catchy power ballad. Their performance only came to an end when they finally reached their destination.

It was difficult to describe the emotions that rose within Ford at the sight of those three pyramids. Nostalgia? Sorrow? Relief, even? The place was as majestic as ever, but the people who had lived within those walls, who had saved him and cared for his wounds… well, they were _gone_ , hunted by the followers of his worst enemy. Had Ford unwittingly led Bill Cipher and his worshippers to what had once been a peaceful haven? He didn’t want to entertain the thought.

The few coral-like trees that remained in the courtyard seemed half-dead, only shimmering faintly in the purple gloom. Bits of broken stone littered the place; Ford was struck with a sudden anger at the poor state of the place. That was another crime to lay at the feet of the Eye of Dawn.

The children obviously did not feel the same way. Mabel took off with a grin, eyes wide with amazement. Her brother and Kyan quickly followed, and Dipper even grabbed his journal and a pen, no doubt eager to write his next entry. Only Zuri remained subdued. Unlike her brother, she probably remembered her childhood home—and the violent event that had ripped them from their parents.

“Whoa…” Mabel said. “It’s not as huge as the Temple of Dawn, but…”

She startled when they heard a loud, clanging sound, followed by laughter. Ford immediately took out his gun. Three people were leaving one of the smaller pyramids. The two men and the woman were dressed shabbily, and they were carrying several objects, including a few metallic ornaments and some silverware. Their laughter stopped abruptly when they caught sight of the newcomers. The blue-skinned, four-eyed man at their front seemed oddly familiar to Ford.

“Hey!” the man shouted at the kids. “What are you guys doing here? We found this place first, we _did!_ ”

“Wait, you’re that guy!” said Dipper. “The one from the barn!”

Mabel gasped. “He’s still wearing my wristwatch!”

The man blinked in confusion, staring dumbly at the kids, before looking at Ford. “Huh! It’s that freak with jus’ two eyes! The one I told you guys about, the one who invaded my barn!”

“Watch who you’re calling a freak!” Dipper shouted.

“Whazzat?” The four-eyed man stomped toward Dipper, his scowl deepening. “You’re sayin’ something, kid?”

He nearly jumped nearly ten feet in the air when something crackled and exploded at his feet. Ford glared at him from over the still fuming barrel of his gun.

“That’s as close as you can get to these children,” he growled. “Back away, or the next shot will go through your skull.”

“No, Grunkle Ford, they’re _dweebs!_ ” Mabel cried. “You can’t just threaten to kill them, you can’t!”

“Alright,” Ford said gruffly. “Get away from the children before I methodically break every bone in both of your legs.”

Thankfully, that threat struck true, and the three looters backed away, the woman even falling to her rear in the process.

“Why are you still here?” Ford barked, mustering his best glare. “Get out of my sight!”

As they ran past him, Ford was sure he’d heard their leader mutter something along the lines of, “You’ll be sorry when I’ll be back, buster!” Ford rolled his eyes at the threat.

When they were gone, he put away his gun, turning to the children. Again, he felt a dull pang as they stared back at him, looking unsure.

“Alright,” he told them. “Let’s see what we can find.”

* * *

Stan heard the sound of the sea lapping on the shores.

Eyes closed, he took in the familiar, soothing noise, inhaling deeply. An equally comforting smell floated to his nostrils; seaweed and salt, the scent of a childhood well spent on the beach. To the sound of the crashing waves were added the laughter of children. Stan smiled, opening his eyes.

The colours of his surroundings were a little off, like someone had scribbled over a greyscale painting with crayons. Stan didn’t mind; it reminded him of the drawings Soos kept giving him when he’d been younger. The Shack was flanked by both forest and sea—his two homes. More laughter came from the woods. The kids were probably up to no good, Stan thought with a grin. On the pier by his house, a grey-haired man in a woollen sweater was fishing, bare feet touching the surface of the water. Stan’s grin grew wider; there was another fishing rod next to his brother.

He breathed in deeply, savouring those sights, smells and sounds. Stan knew where he was.

This was his mind.

Stan walked toward the pier. Ford was wearing his stupid little fishing hat. Stan bit down a laugh, loudly calling, “Hey, Sixer! Mind if I join you?”

Ford turned toward Stan. It was hard to see his expression from this distance, but he seemed to be smiling. Stan lifted one foot, intending to join his brother, but he was stopped in his tracks by a strange noise. It almost sounded like someone had _snorted_ behind him. Stan turned around, frowning. There was no one.

Stan looked toward Ford again. His brother was gone, leaving behind the two fishing rods. “Fordsie?” he asked, brows furrowing. “What the hell? Where d’you go?”

“Oh, wow!” a voice said behind Stan. The sound of it grated at his ears, for some reason. “Place sure is more colourful than it used to be the last time I was here!”

Stan whirled on his feet, but found no one behind him. His frown deepened as he looked around.

“And here I thought you were nothing but a sad sack of an old man!” the voice continued. It was about as charming as a TV announcer screaming all of his lines at the top of his lungs. “If I had a heart, I’d be touched, really!”

“Where the hell are you?” Stan shouted. Chills went down his spine when the voice laughed in response. His head began to swim as he searched the source of the sound. Finally, his eyes spied a hint of colour.

In front of him, a small floating triangle had just appeared.

A _yellow_ triangle with a bowtie, a top hat and one bloodshot eye.

“Finally!” the triangle said. “I was starting to think you’d never notice me, Mackerel!” He squinted that single eye in an approximation of a smile. “Didja miss me? Admit it, you missed me!”

Stan took a step backward. Every cell in his body urged him to _run_ , though he could not explain why. “What are _you_ s’posed to be?”

The triangle gasped. “You don’t remember me! My, Stanley Pines, how could you?” The words were followed by another cackle. “Then again, that was the whole point of your little scheme, wasn’t it?”

“The point?” Stan felt very cold all of a sudden. “The hell you’re talking about?”

Again, the triangle replied by laughing. Stan gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to just punch his lights out.

“He cried, didn’t he?” the triangle said, voice dripping with maliciousness. “Fordsie, I mean. He cried when he killed you, right?”

“Shut up,” Stan growled. “Shut your goddamn mouth!”

The triangle circled Stan’s head. “Aw, still a sensitive subject? And yet you forgave him, didn’t ya? Even though he treated you like the dirt on his shoes for most of your life. Even though he raised a gun to your head and destroyed your mind. Have you noticed that _you’re_ the one who always pays the big price between the two of you? Convenient, that.”

“I said shut up!” With that surge of anger came a stomach-churning realization. Stan jabbed a finger at the triangular asshole, shouting, “You! I remember you! You’re—”

And a certain name left his lips.

Stan blinked, still pointing. The name he’d said was—

“ _Well, well, well_ …” A cane appeared in the triangle’s stick-thin hands, and he began to twirl it. “I haven’t heard that one in a long, _long_ time… not even dear Sixer knows my true name, you realize?” Something flashed in that single eye, like a hint of vindication.

“H-Huh?” Stan said.

“Funny, that. Very, very funny…”

“Shut it, Cipher,” Stan spat. “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.” And he snapped his fingers, fully expecting the stupid triangle to vanish from his mindscape.

Bill Cipher only looked at his hand, like he was inspecting his (nonexistent) fingernails.

“Wait, what? Why are ya still there? The hell’s going on?”

From within the forest came familiar voices. Stan froze, recognizing the kids’ excited rambles. His blood iced in his veins.

“Aw,” Bill said, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “You put fake versions of your family in your mindscape? Still clingy as ever, aren’t ya, Mackerel?”

Stan said nothing, only making his hands into fists. Maybe if he’d just let the dumbass talk, he would wake up and not have to deal with his crap anymore.

Bill’s eye was fixed on the forest. “You think those kids are still gonna give a damn about you when they’re grown up? When they’ll be _important_ people, with _important_ lives?”

“Not gonna answer that,” Stan said gruffly.

Bill snorted. “You know what you mortals all have in common? _Selfishness_. Consequence of knowing the clock’s ticking, you see? Once you’re a vegetable in a retirement home, they’re not gonna come visit you, you know. They’ll have better things to do than watch you drool all over yourself.”

Despite himself, Stan felt a jolt of panic. Still, he ignored it and said instead, through grit teeth, “No, they won’t, you asshole.”

Bill answered by laughing madly. “Then again, that’s only if they survive to adulthood,” he said, single eye gleaming. “And they won’t. They’re gonna die soon, after all.”

Stan’s heart skipped a beat. “ _What?!_ ”

“Of course. When I get hold of your body, I’m gonna wrap those big paws of yours around their little necks and _squeeze_ —”

Stan lunged forward, roaring.

“Whoa!” Bill floated away. “Violent much, Mackerel? And I thought _Ford_ was unstable!”

With a snarl, Stan spun on his heel to attack him once more. Again, his fist only met the empty air. In fact, now that he could take a better look, Stan realized that the three-sided jerk was nowhere to be found.

“Funny it took you scrambling your mind for me to come back, isn’t it?” Bill’s voice said, out of nowhere. “And by funny, I mean _entirely not a coincidence_.”

“ _You’re dead!_ ” Stan roared. “ _You can’t have survived, you’re—_ ”

“Survived?” There was a long, deliberate pause. “I didn’t survive. You’re right, I’m dead. I’ve croaked, I’ve bitten the dust, I’m pushing metaphorical daisies. Your little stunt with the memory gun made sure of that.”

Stan’s fiery-hot anger was dimming, gradually replaced by cold dread. “But if you’re not dead, then _what_ are you?”

“Aw, c’mon. You know what I am. What _you_ are, now that’s the better question!”

“I’m nobody!” Stan said, heart pounding. “I’m just Stan Pines from Jersey! There’s nothing special about me!”

“We both know that I’m not here, not really,” said Bill. “I’m an imprint of what was left behind. So if I know the truth about you, that means you do too, Mackerel. But you’re used to be livin’ a lie, aren’tcha? It’s nice that you got me to open your _eye_ to the truth.”

“ _Eye?_ Whaddya mean—”

And a sudden pain burned around Stan’s right eye, as if a sharp object had just been lodged into its socket. He screamed and screamed, putting his hands over his face and feeling the warmth of blood pouring over his fingers.

At the same time, there was a sharp noise, like the sound of a match being lit.

And suddenly, everything was _fire_.

The Shack went up in flames, while the inferno swept over the crayon-coloured trees, turning them to ashes. The children’s laughter died, replaced by _screams_ , so many screams. Hundreds, thousands, _millions_ of beings were suffering a fiery, violent end, and Stan was here to see, hear, _feel_ every second of their torment.

And all of them cried, _Why? Why are you doing this to us, why why why._

“ _I did it because I hated you!_ ” Stan screamed madly, blood dripping over his chin. His hands were stained red, red, _red_ , and his voice didn’t sound like his own—no, the voice that left his lips seemed to belong to a _child_. “ _I did it because I hated you as much as you hated me!_ ”

In response, all he got were more screams of pain and terror. In his guts, horror mixed with satisfaction as he heard them begging for mercy. Stan felt like he was going to puke, so instead he forced himself to laugh. It was a grotesque, terrible sound, one devoid of any joy or humour.

The moment he regained his senses, he clamped his hand over his mouth, another bout of nausea surging through him.

What _was_ that? It felt too real to be simply a nightmare. Why on earth would he dream about the deaths of so many people?

No. That was the wrong question. Stan didn’t want to admit it, but it was true. In his heart of hearts, Stan knew what he should really be asking.

_Whose memories are these?_

There was a loud, ripping sound, one that sent goosebumps rippling across his skin. Stan gazed upward. Garish colours bled into the pale azure from an open wound in the sky. Ash filled his mouth and nose, making him want to retch.

And the screams just kept on _coming_.

Suddenly, Stan’s feet left the ground, as if he was swept away by a force greater than gravity. Someone caught him by the wrist. An older, grey-haired gentleman in a dapper suit stared back at Stan. His features were hidden in shadows, save for his eyes: one golden and gleaming, the other bloodied and shut tight.

“You’re nothing,” Bill-in-Stan’s form said. He seemed very much unconcerned by the destruction being wrought around them. “You’re tacked on, an afterthought. You’re a half-assed new coat of pain. Not wait, it’s _worse_. You’re a copy. A _defective_ copy, ‘cause ol’ Xolo, for all his _godly wisdom_ , has a fourth grader’s understanding of human genetics.” He snorted. “Honestly, what a weirdo. ‘Ooh, I have a twin, twins are cool, everyone should have a twin, that’s fun!’ _Hah!_ As if family can be anything but trouble!”

Stan tried to free his hand from the demon’s grip. His efforts prompted a wider grin from Bill.

“At least yours won’t be a problem soon! I murdered one family already, how hard it can be to do it again? ’Cept this time, I’ll get to _enjoy_ it. Then again, Big Frills is all about these second chances, isn’t he?”

“ _No!_ ” Stan shouted, but his voice was lost in the roar of the inferno and the screams of the people burning.

“It won’t be long, now…” the demon said, sounding oddly contemplative. “Time to scrape that paint and see what colour you bleed, ‘ _Stanley Pines’_.”

Bill let go of his hand.

And Stan fell upward, toward the wound in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh man, I've had the latter part of this chapter written since forever. The whole story sprang from this one scene. It felt so good to finally post it...


	16. Chapter 16

“So,” Wendy asked McGucket, gesturing to the pictures she’d laid on the table, “you’re saying all this equipment is for scanning stuff underground?”

They had all agreed to a morning meeting at Susan’s diner. Despite the early hour, the place was bustling with regulars: lonely old timers looking for a bit of company, harried parents trying to rein in children on a sugar high, and the rare loners looking only for a place to read their paper in peace.

None seemed to pay any mind to the so-called Pines Rescue Squad. McGucket was on his third cup of coffee, while Soos, Candy and Grenda had devoured an alarming number of pancakes. Wendy only poked at her plate, her expression unusually grim. Pacifica was feeding bits of waffles covered in syrup to the llamasaur. When Susan had caught sight of him, she had said, “What a cute lil’ fella!” before returning with doggie treats. The llamasaur had sniffed them suspiciously and refused to eat them.

“Ah’m ‘fraid so,” McGucket answered. “Seems like military grade stuff.”

“How long have we got ‘til they find the lab?” Candy asked.

McGucket shrugged. “Ah dunno. One or two days, at the most.”

“ _Dammit_ ,” Wendy said, slamming the table with her fist. “Everything we’ve done so far… it would all be for nothing!”

“Well, I’m always down for a little sabotage!” Grenda said, pounding her fist into her open palm.

“And make them even more suspicious than they are?” Pacifica said. “You want more of these jerks to investigate the town, is that it?”

Susan came by their booth, filling McGucket’s mug for the fourth time. “Are you dears doing okay?” she asked with a smile. “You all have such long faces!”

“Everything’s fine, Ma’am!” Soos replied, tipping his cap. “We’re just a bit stumped, is all.”

“It’s them government fellas giving you trouble, isn’t it?” Susan seemed lost in thought for a moment. “I could help, if you’d like! I know there’s not much I can do, but I hate seeing you kids look so down!”

“The offer’s appreciated,” McGucket said. “So’s the coffee!”

“Alright!” said Susan. “If you need anything, just gimme a call then!” With a wave of the hand, she left to continue making her round.

Pacifica turned to Soos, pinching her mouth. “’Everything’s _fine?_ ’ Do you even hear what you say sometimes?”

“You have anything better to contribute, Northwest?” Wendy said dryly. “If you want to be a pain in someone’s ass so bad, why don’t you march up to the Shack to see if the feds need company?”

Pacifica puffed out her cheeks, seemingly on the verge of a tantrum. By her feet, the llamasaur let out a low growl.

“Don’t fight, guys!” Soos said. “I’m sure we’ll come up with something! Melody’s still making calls, I’m sure it will— ”

“As if that would change anything!” Pacifica rolled her eyes. “Ugh! If only I could get my parents to sue those rotten jerks…”

They heard a snort coming from the neighbouring booth. A figure in a trench coat and a hat was glancing at them from over his shoulder. The man sported a beard and a rather ruddy nose.

“Wait!” said Candy. “You’re one of the gnomes!”

“Oh god, _no_ , don’t tell me,” Pacifica said, paling. “There’s more than one. And they’re all stacked up and wearing a trench coat. _And Susan never noticed?!_ ”

Jeff the gnome scoffed. “We’ve been doing this trick since before you were born, kiddo.” The other gnomes—still hidden under the trench coat—were making squeaks of assent. “Besides, I don’t think she minds, as long as we pay.”

“But where d’you get the money?” Soos said, sounding bemused and delighted at the same time.

“That’s not the point!” Pacifica said. “We told you guys to lay low! Do you really want to get caught by those government agents?!”

“Weren’t you supposed to get rid of those guys? That’s what you said you’d do, in exchange for us staying out of town.” Jeff quirked a brow. “You’re not doing a good job of it, by the way.”

“ _Why, you little—_ ”

“Pacifica!” Both Grenda and Candy grabbed her, keeping her from climbing on her seat to take a swing at Jeff’s face.

“Shut up!” Wendy said, jabbing a finger at the gnome. “You don’t know what we’re up against! You think it’s easy, just the six of us against the freakin’ government?”

Jeff seemed unimpressed by the intensity of her glare. “Six of you? _Huh_. No wonder you guys are having so much trouble.”

“Wait, what?” Wendy said. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

Jeff jumped off the shoulders of his gnome companion, before exiting his booth. “Well, nice speaking with you idiots, but I guess me and my buds have to work on cleaning your messes. Tootaloo!”

And he and the other two gnomes took off, saluting a rather nonplussed Susan on their way out. She still gave them a bright smile and said, “Thank you! Be sure to come back soon, dears!”

Pacifica’s mouth hung open in an unflattering way, while Wendy muttered curses under her breath. Soos, for his part, only blinked guilelessly.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “They forgot to leave a tip for Susan!”

* * *

The inside of the temple was dark as a tomb, and the children remained close to Ford as he led them through dusty corridors. They advanced slowly, careful not to stumble on the rubble and broken pieces of furniture littering the way.

According to Zuri’s recollections, the temple boasted an impressive library. The deeper they went in, the grimmer she grew. Scorch marks blackened the walls in some places. Here and there, they found personal effects, clearly left in a hurry—clothes, bits of parchments, even _toys_.

Eventually, they found what they were seeking.

Ford’s mouth hung open at the sight of the place. The library was several floors high, built in the same pyramidal shape as the outside of the temple. Starlight peered out of a glass ceiling, dappling the room in patches of silver. The middle portion was open, with decayed tapestries hanging from the railings on every floor. Other than the rows and rows of books and parchments, Ford found several lounging chairs, some still covered with cushions. The pitiful state of the library tugged at his heartstrings; he tried to imagine how his younger self would have reacted to such a place, back when it was at its full splendour.

“So,” Zuri finally asked after they were all done gawking, “what it is we’re looking for, exactly?”

“Information on any spell or ritual that could stop someone from being possessed.” Ford rubbed his chin. “We have such things in our dimension, it stands that yours would too.”

“Someone being possessed…” Zuri repeated, sounding unusually contemplative. “You said that this Bill Cipher guy can control someone’s body if they made a deal with him?”

“Yes. It’s not a pleasant experience, that much I can tell you.”

It was hard to tell in this lighting, but Zuri’s cheeks seemed to pale. “Huh. You know, it reminds me… The one leading those loons, Lady Malakh, well… you saw how she is. She acts like she’s already got one foot in the grave. But there was… well, there was that one time…”

“What time?” Ford prompted. Next to him, Dipper and Mabel exchanged a worried glance.

“Well, I remember her acting so weird, that one time. She was just… _unhinged_. Like someone had just flicked a switch and her whole personality had changed.”

Ford felt a chill down his spine. “Oh.”

Zuri pointedly did not meet his eyes. “It was just a little over a year ago. I was hanging around that room with the portal, trying to understand what was going on.” She shook her head. “I remember her grabbing me by the arm so _hard_ —like, her nails were digging into my skin. And her voice… it sounded so _wrong_. She said I’d have a bad time if I kept snooping around. I couldn’t see her face ‘cause of the mask, but I knew she was _grinning_. I managed to get away, but…”

“You don’t need to go on, if you’d rather not,” Ford told her.

Zuri stopped, shaking with a full-body shudder. Kyan patted her arm, looking concerned.

“That two-eyed freak,” she muttered. “I always knew she was bad news, even when I was a kid.”

Ford frowned. “You met her as a child?”

“Well, she lived at the temple too, you know.” Zuri glanced at her brother. “Didn’t the Oracle choose her as her successor or something?”

Kyan held up his hands. “Don’t ask me! I was just four, I don’t remember anything about her!”

“Yeah,” Zuri continued. “No one liked her, even after the Oracle chose her. _Especially_ after the Oracle chose her. Everyone was so mad, it was all the adults talked about.”

“Why?” Ford said. “What had she done to make everyone dislike her so?”

Zuri seemed embarrassed for a moment. “I dunno. She was just this weirdo who kept creeping around and who never spoke to anyone. It’s not like I went out my way to spend time with her.”

“It’s because of her eyes, isn’t it?” Dipper said, voice sharp with judgment. “You called her a _two-eyed_ freak. She was different, and people didn’t like that.”

Zuri scowled at him. “Get off my back, kid. She _is_ a freak. Or d’you just want to conveniently forget that she just kidnapped your uncle?”

“I know, but…” Dipper’s voice died down to a mutter, and he could say no more.

 _She was different. A freak._ Ford mulled over his nephew’s words, an unpleasant feeling churning in the pit of his stomach. His hands—his _mutant_ , _freakish_ six-fingered hands—tightened into fists.

“Regardless,” Ford said, “all of our attention should be focused on saving Stanley. We need to split up. That way, we’ll cover more ground.”

“Alright!” said Mabel. “Me, Dipper and Kyan, we’ll make one team, and Zuri and Grunkle Ford, you two can search together!”

Ford nodded. “Good idea, my dear. That way, Kyan and Zuri will be our translators. I’ll climb to the highest floor, then make my way down. You kids start from the first floor, before joining up with us in the middle.”

The twins responded with a crisp military-style salute, earning themselves baffled stares from Kyan and Zuri.

“Aye-aye, cap’n!” Dipper and Mabel both said in near synchronicity.

Ford managed a smile. What would he do without those two?

“Alright,” he said. “Good luck, everyone.”

* * *

Faced with the prospect of searching rows and rows of bookcases in near darkness, Dipper did the only sensible thing.

He groaned and rubbed his face with both hands.

“You guys don’t have an equivalent for the Dewey Decimal system, do you?” he asked Kyan, voice as dry as sandpaper.

“The doo-what now?”

“A classification system? What about an index?”

“I don’t know...” Kyan scratched the back of his head. “This is the first time I’ve ever been in a library…”

Mabel threw her arm around Dipper’s shoulders. “C’mon, you guys! Less whining, more searching!”

She showed uncharacteristic focus as they poured through pages and pages of obscure texts written in otherworldly symbols. That was odd. Dipper figured she would have eventually gotten bored and make a nuisance out of herself while he and Kyan did most of the work. The fact that Grunkle Stan’s life hung in the balance probably served as proper motivation. The reminder weighed heavily in the pit of Dipper’s stomach. Grunkle Stan had to be alright. He _had_ to be.

Kyan worked as best he could to translate the texts they found. Dipper couldn’t help but feel a little jealous every time he saw the other boy conjuring a light to read by. Kyan did it so easily, like he didn’t even have to think about it. Dipper knew it was childish, but it was annoying to have worked so hard without anything to show for it. The only moment he seemed to feel the spark of magic that Kyan had described to him was when the other boy happened to cast a spell.

After a while, Dipper finally stumbled on what seemed to be a pile of drapes tucked away in a corner of the library. Through further examination, he realized those were actually tapestries.

“What’s that?” Dipper said, showing one tapestry to Kyan. “That’s not your Lord of Twilight, isn’t it? It’s some kind of snake, I think?”

“Ooh, he’s got feathers on his head!” said Mabel. “What a cute widdle guy!”

“Look, he’s on another one,” Dipper continued. “This time, he’s with that axolotl guy.”

Kyan examined the tapestry, mouthing the words written around the creatures. “It’s some kind of poem, just give me a sec. It goes a bit like this, I’d say.”

_Heavenly fire, wind passing through the grass,  
Morning and evening, the lords come and leave,  
Following the same star, never to meet._

“Sorry about the bad translation,” Kyan completed. “The original was supposed to rhyme.”

“Aw,” said Mabel. “That’s kind of sad. Why can’t those two lord guys meet again?”

“I don’t know,” Kyan said. “It’s strange. I’ve never heard of this Feathered Serpent.”

“Maybe he was a friend of your Lord of Twilight dude!”

“Maybe?” Kyan admitted, looking unconvinced. “Those tapestries look ancient, we should be careful with them…”

“You dorks found anything interesting yet?” Zuri’s voice came from the other end of the bookshelf. She quirked an eyebrow at the sight of them surrounded by the pile of tapestries. “Huh. Apparently not.”

“What’s that?” Ford said, approaching Dipper and the others. “A feathered serpent? Fascinating! In Mesoamerican civilizations—”

Zuri rolled all three of her eyes. “Who cares? Does it have anything to do with what we’re doing?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Ford said, sounding actually a bit miffed. He then cleared his throat. “Zuri and I were unlucky in our search. You children found anything on your end?”

Dipper glanced at the notes he’d taken in his journal. “Let’s see… we found a spell to make yourself heavier or lighter, a spell to counter _other_ spells, a spell to make sparkles—”

“You mean the Best Spell Ever!” Mabel interrupted him.

“—a spell to project your soul out of your body,” Dipper continued, completely ignoring his sister. “And, uh…” He snapped his book shut. “And that’s it. We didn’t find anything about keeping someone from being possessed.”

“Hmm,” Ford said, crouching to inspect what they had found. “Say, that tapestry… it’s the same design as the one you have back at the base, isn’t it? I recognize the symbols. Do they mean anything?”

Zuri looked at her brother. “It’s in the old language, right? I can’t read it, but Kyan can.”

“Yes, well, it’s the same language we use for ritual spells,” Kyan replied.

It was stupidly obvious, Dipper realized. He looked up his uncle, seeing the same expression dawning on the older man’s face.

“It’s a spell!” Dipper and Ford said, simultaneously. “A ritual spell!”

Kyan’s eyes widened as well. “Wait, wait, _wait!_ I think that might be the spell that the Oracle used to go into her trances! Her and all the Oracles that came before!”

“Go into her what?” Mabel asked him.

“That’s how she made her prophecies,” Grunkle Ford said. “It has to be!”

Kyan held the tapestry closer. “The incantation is kinda like the one you use to project your soul out of your body, but it’s got an added part. The spell caster guides the other person’s soul toward…” He squinted his eyes, mumbling a little. “A world without end? A world outside of time? I don’t get it...”

Grunkle Ford got to his feet, looking very serious all of a sudden. “Do it on me.”

“W-What?” Dipper said. “You can’t be serious, Great Uncle Ford! You heard what Kyan said, you’d be ejecting your soul from your body!”

“What if something goes wrong?” Mabel added. “What if your soul gets stuck out of your body for too long?”

Kyan grimaced. “That’d be no good. Your body would _die_. They’re right, Mr. Ford, it’s too dangerous!”

“And so is letting Stanley in the hands of that insane cult,” Ford replied gruffly. “I’ll be fine. If Jheselbraum and the previous Oracles can do it, then so can I.”

Dipper opened his mouth, a dozen arguments ready to pour out. With a frown, he snapped it shut. Grunkle Ford wouldn’t listen to him, anyway. Dipper would act the same if he was in his shoes—if it was Mabel’s life on the line.

“Okay,” he managed. “What can we do to help, then?”

“Keep an eye on my body while I’ll be, well, _gone_ ,” Grunkle Ford replied. “That would be helpful enough.”

“Right,” Dipper croaked. He swallowed nervously before adding, “Be careful, please?”

“ _Pretty_ please?” Mabel said.

Grunkle Ford squeezed both of their hands. “Of course. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m always careful.”

Dipper frowned, opting not to call out the obvious lie. Instead, he only grabbed Mabel’s offered hand, taking comfort in the familiar touch.

Grunkle Ford turned to Kyan. “There’s no time to lose. Let’s start.”

Kyan only gave a grim nod in response.

* * *

A man was falling.

Where was he? A void surrounded him, as oppressing as the abyss hidden in the depths of the seas. Desperately, the man tried to recall what he had been doing. He could only remember the voices of two children wishing for his safe return. Who were they?

There was a name burning on his tongue—the name of the one he needed to save. Why was it so hard to remember? His head hurt whenever he tried to focus. Wait. What were those noises, coming from the distance?

Voices? Familiar voices. The sounds were muffled, as if coming from far away.

He frowned, straining to hear. Somewhere, someone was calling for help.

His gaze snapped downward.

* * *

A man was ascending.

Where was he? The eye-searing colours of the wound in the sky had disappeared, leaving him in pure darkness. Desperately, the man tried to recall where he had ended up. He could only remember his right eye flaring with pain. What had happened to him?

There was a name burning on his tongue—the false name his parents had given him. Why was it so hard to remember? His eye was still painful, making it hard to stay focused. Wait. What were those flickering lights, in the distance?

Stars? No, not bright enough. The lights were muted, as if passing through a mist.

He blinked, straining to see. Opening his mouth, he called for help.

His gaze snapped upward.

* * *

There was someone else. A figure, going in the opposite direction.

For the briefest of moments, they locked gazes. It was like looking into a mirror, only to find an imperfect reflection. Shorter, paler hair, a face lined by hardships. One brown eye, widening in shock behind black-rimmed glasses.

 _Sixer!_ the imperfect reflection cried out, reaching with a five-fingered hand.

One second later, and the other man was gone.

* * *

There was someone else. A figure, going in the opposite direction.

For the briefest of moments, they locked gazes. It was like looking into a mirror, only to find an imperfect reflection. Thicker, darker hair, a face lined by fatigue. Brown eyes, widening in shock behind horn-rimmed glasses.

 _Lee!_ the imperfect reflection cried out, reaching with a six-fingered hand.

One second later, and the other man was gone.

* * *

The deeper he fell, the more distinctively he could hear the voices coming from the darkness.

 _Why would I want to do anything with the person who sabotaged my entire future?!_ a teenage boy was screaming.

 _Thank you? You think I want to thank you after what you did, thirty years ago?!_ came the reprimands of an older man.

 _You ruined your own life!_ the same voice shouted, sounding somewhat younger.

Slowly, memories trickled to the forefront of the falling man’s mind. Yes… those were moments of his life.

Stanford Pines’ life.

He gasped, closing his six-fingered so tightly the nails dug in his palms. Hundreds of voices whispered or shouted his name. But that was not the name Ford needed to remember.

He mustered all of his strength to shout, _Help me!_ He’d come here looking for assistance. He’d come here because he was desperate. Ford felt sluggish, like a man struggling to keep his head out of the water. Yet, he fought on, pleading yet again for help.

No one answered.

* * *

The higher he soared, the more images he could see flashing out the corner of his eye.

_A teenage boy, raising his hands in an attempt to stave off his father’s rage as the man grabbed him by the collar._

_An old man sitting alone in his bed and rubbing his bruised cheek, shoulders hunched like he was carrying the weight of the world._

_A young man in shabby clothes, eyes wide with shock as a bespectacled man in a long ragged coat lunged at him._

Slowly, memories trickled to the forefront of the man’s mind. Yes… those were moments of his life.

… _whose_ life, exactly?

He choked, five-fingered hands going to his throat. Darkness overtook everything, and the scenes from his life vanished from view. He struggled uselessly as blackness filled his sight.

The man with the false name tried to speak, but no word came out. Why was he here? Who had sent him here? The man felt exhaustion too deep to put into words, as if he had spent years without ever sleeping. Maybe if he just shut his eye, he could finally rest.

No one came to rouse him.

* * *

_Help me! Help me! Please!_

Ford Pines shouted at the top of his lungs. The more he remembered, the more he heard voices, coming from the depths of his memories. And the clearer his mind grew, the more the void receded. Lights peppered his view, piercing the darkness enough that it gradually turned into the same shade as an evening sky.

 _Wow, a six-fingered handshake!_ a child’s voice called out. _It’s a full finger friendlier than normal!_

 _I-I can’t believe it!_ another child’s voice came through. _You’re the author of the journals!_

It was as if a bolt of electricity had coursed through his body. Suddenly, he remembered it all—the temple, the children, the ritual.

The reason why he was here.

He was here to find a way to save _Stanley_.

Ford’s fall stopped abruptly. The sky lightened again, now turning a softer blue. Pink, misty clouds filled the air as the voices from his past lowered to distant murmurs.

Another shock rippled through Ford, raising goosebumps on his skin. There was something behind him, something _big_.

He whirled around, reaching for the gun in his holster. His hand only grabbed empty air as he found himself staring into gigantic, formless black eyes.

In front of him was an enormous pink salamander with frilly, red gills. The creature’s gaze was curious, amused even.

 _You found me!_ a voice sounded in Ford’s head. It was childlike, but not exactly childish.

For a moment, Ford soundlessly worked his mouth. An eternity seemed to pass before he managed to ask, “Who… who are you?”

_You know who I am!_

“I… I do?”

 _Oh? My bad!_ The creature moved a little, making the pink mist swirl around its body. _I don’t perceive time the way you do._

The creature’s tongue stuck out in an approximation of a smile.

_I am the Axolotl. Nice to meet you, Stanford Pines!_

* * *

There was only silence. Silence and darkness and an icy cold that seeped down the marrow of his bones.

The man grunted. He wasn’t asleep yet? _Dammit_. This was starting to get old fast. The more irritated he grew, the clearer his mind got. Still, the darkness did not recede. Instead, it got thicker, almost as he was flailing around in a black gunk. Again, he struggled to draw a breath.

Despite this, he managed to force out a shout. “Hey! Is anyone here? _Help!_ ”

He came to a sudden stop, and his stomach lurched painfully in response. The man wheezed, managing a curse. The pressure let up, and finally he could breathe. He never was so pleased to feel the air through his lungs.

A chill went down the man's spine as he felt a presence behind him. He whirled around, readying his fists.

There was no one.

 _I found you!_ a voice sounded in the man’s head.

The man blinked sluggishly. “What… who the hell…?”

 _You know who I am!_ the voice said, singsong.

“Yeah, _right_ ,” the man said gruffly. “Whaddya want?”

 _Oh? But I thought you called for me!_ There was a hint of movement in front of the man. He squinted his eye; yes, there was someone there, but they seemed to blend in with the shadows, making it impossible to see any of their features.

“Ugh…” The man rubbed the bridge of his nose. Whoever the hell it was, they sure sounded too damn chipper for his tastes. “Lower the volume, will ya? My head’s killing me for some reason. Again, who the hell are ya?”

The faint outline of a person was starting to show. Their body seemed to glitch, like it was filled with static from a TV screen. Two round, black eyes formed, and the approximation of a mouth gave a goopy smile.

_I am here to guide you. Nice to see you again, Stanley Pines!_


	17. Chapter 17

The troubles had started small, more like the innocuous pranks of a child than real sabotage.

Many times over the last few days, the agents came to Dryer, complaining of missing personal effects. Lunchboxes, shoes, _cellphones_ even. Blauer had railed against them for losing sensitive material. His mood had not improved when every light on the premise had flickered and died last evening, leaving them unable to conduct the first of their planned scan of the area.

Dryer had requested for a generator to be sent this morning. Still, the moment they had finished installing the damned thing, they realized that something had cut the cables. No, not cut. _Chewed on_.

What kind of animal had teeth strong enough to do such a thing?

Save for that bit of information, Dryer had no evidence to work with. No footprint, no blurry phone picture, not even a single hair. To say that Blauer was infuriated would be putting it mildly.

“It’s those kids, I know it!” Blauer raved at Dryer while their team continued to investigate the premises, stumbling around in the dim lights of their cellphones. “Those little brats! They want to make us look like fools!”

 _They’re doing a good job of it_ , Dryer thought as she saw the spittle flying out of Blauer’s mouth.

“Let’s just grab one of them. We know who they are, where they live—”

“ _No_ ,” Dryer cut him off, raising her voice enough that the other agents sent them concerned looks. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “If you lay a hand on these children, the only thing that will happen is you leaving this town with a warning in your file.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “The only reason we’re here is because our predecessors had an appalling disregard for paperwork. I’m not going to let my people skirt the law in order to get results.”

Blauer’s face turned even redder. “So, you’d rather have a bunch of small town hicks run circles around you and cheerfully committing crimes under your nose?”

“Why did you choose this job, Blauer?” Dryer asked him instead. “I chose it because I want to uphold the law to protect people. I’m not here to be a bully. I’ll do my job the right way or I won’t do it at all.”

She didn’t say, of course, that once upon a time there had been a girl who’d been eager to study all the strange, unexplained phenomena of the world. There had been a girl who’d believed she would one day find Bigfoot or visit the Bermuda triangle or crack the secret of Area 51. Dryer crossed her arms, taking in a deep breath to swat those unnecessary thoughts away. That girl had been taught early that her beloved mysteries were nothing but childhood fancies.

Blauer snorted. “So I’m supposed to just believe that?”

“I don’t care what you believe. Either you follow instructions or you’re off this investigation. End of discussion.”

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as he glowered at her, one of his eyes twitching. Dryer stood her ground, face kept carefully neutral. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to deal with someone like him. It seemed as if her line of work tended to attract the wrong sort of person, sometimes.

“Fine,” Blauer said. His mouth formed a smirk, though his eyes were not smiling. “We’ll do it your way. Let’s see how long the higher-ups will be willing to throw money our way.” With another snort, he turned away, heading toward his car.

Dryer remained silent. The rest of her team was staring at her, some frowning, others looking unsure.

“Alright, everyone,” she told them. “Let’s wrap up, and continue tomorrow. We won’t find anything while it’s so dark out.”

As she spoke, she glanced at the surrounding forest. Was it just her imagination or had she seen something rustling in the undergrowth?

She mulled over that possibility, before heading for her car as well. They would simply have to widen their search area tomorrow, then.

* * *

Ford stared with his mouth hanging open, still trying to find his voice. Around him, the starry sky stretched into infinity, in a way that made him dizzy. Pink clouds floated past, as if caught in a breeze he could not feel on his skin. He had met many bizarre critters in his time, but something in the innocent smile of that creature struck him numb. Still, he could not tear his gaze away. Those great black eyes filled him with fear and awe in equal measure.

 _I am the Axolotl!_ The childlike voice repeated in his head. His greeting sounded exactly the same as before—the same inflection, the same energy, the same hint of curiosity. _Nice to meet you, Stanford Pines!_

Ford steadied his breath, trying to fight the dread building up in his chest. “Your tongue really does stick out,” was all he managed to get out. “My niece would find that charming.”

 _She did_ , the Axolotl replied.

“What?!” Ford exclaimed. “Did you meet her?! How— _when?!_ ” 

_Never_ , the creature said. _She never met me._

“Oh.” Ford felt a little foolish. He cleared his throat, before saying, “Are you… _God?_ ” He tried to picture how his mother would have reacted to the possibility that God was a giant salamander with pink frilly gills.

Axolotl’s laughter rumbled in the air. _No._

“Are you _a_ god?”

 _Am I?_ Axolotl didn’t seem sure. _Maybe. Some of your species thought so. They lived south of your continent._

“South of my… wait, do you mean…”

The answer was as obvious as the nose on Ford’s face. The being facing him was _Xolotl_ , brother of the great Feathered Serpent so prevalent in Mesoamerican mythologies.

Xolotl, god of monsters and twins.

For a moment, Ford could say nothing while the implications of that realization sank in. “You’re… I thought you were a god of knowledge, but you’re… you’re a god of _death_.”

 _Yes?_ Axolotl seemed nonplussed. _Didn’t I tell you about it?_

“N-No,” Ford said, still a bit taken aback. “You didn’t.”

 _Oh, well! I’m a god of death!_ The creature gave a pause, wiggling a little. _Now, you know!_

Ford took a deep breath to still his heart. He had to _focus_ or they would be getting nowhere. “So you’re the one they call the Lord of Twilight. Jheselbraum was one of your priestesses.”

_She spoke to me often. She doesn’t speak to me now._

Ford’s spirits sank. “I thought you might have known what happened to her. It’s one of the reasons why I came to you, actually.”

The beady eyes blinked slowly. _She will speak to me soon._

“She’s _alive?_ ”

_In your current time frame, I believe so. Maybe._

“… _maybe?!_ ”

The great pink creature swirled around him, in a way that made Ford’s coat whip in the air. _I don’t perceive time the way you do._

Ford let out a noise of irritation. “I’ve got no time for mind games and riddles! My brother’s been taken by these Dawn Cult lunatics! I’ve got to save him!”

_That you do, Stanford Pines._

“I know you can help me,” said Ford. “You have knowledge of the future. Jheselbraum knew who would be the one to defeat Bill Cipher ten years before it happened. It’s because you told her, isn’t it?”

_I told her sixty years ago. When Bill Cipher’s essence shattered and spread into the multiverse._

This time, Ford could not stop himself from gaping. “ _What?_ What on earth are you talking about? Stan killed Bill last summer!”

 _I don’t perceive time the way you do,_ Axolotl said, with the exact tone of voice and inflection as before.

Ford met the creature’s gaze again, and his heart skipped a beat. The Axolotl’s eyes were not completely black, as he had first thought; instead they were filled with countless little lights swirling in a never-ending void.

Those were not eyes, Ford realized. Those were _galaxies_.

Finally, the Axolotl spoke again. This time, his voice seemed to resonate in the very marrow of Ford’s bones.

_Once upon a time, there was one Stanford Pines. Once upon a time, there were several Bill Ciphers._

“Several?” Ford muttered. “But there’s only one Bill Cipher!”

_Once upon, there was a child called Stan Pines._

Next to Ford, a cloud of pink mist condensed, forming the almost solid outline of a lady holding a bundle in her arms. It was Ford’s mother, cooing at a crying baby. The infant made fists with his tiny hands as he wailed. Ford’s breath hitched when he noticed the number of digits on each hand.

Little Stan Pines had six fingers on each hand.

“That’s not Stanley,” said Ford. “It’s a version of me, isn’t it?”

Axolotl did not acknowledge Ford’s interruption. _Stan Pines was a brilliant, but lonely child. He made a name for himself as an engineer, working for the government. He brought his family the fortune they had hoped for._

Another image hung in the air. A different version of Ford, smiling awkwardly while posing for a portrait with his parents and elder brother Sherman.

_Stan Pines did not trust easily. He’d grown up in a world that thrived on rules, a world that pushed aside those who were different, deeming them to be undesirable._

_One day, someone came to him in dreams._

A sort of halo was forming around the other Ford’s head. A _triangular_ halo, burning so bright that all the other colours seemed to dim in comparison.

_His Muse told him they could remake the world anew, so there would be no more rules. So the freaks could have a place in it, too._

“Oh,” Ford said, feeling a chill down his spine.

_He was the first Stanford Pines to get tricked by Bill Cipher. Unlike you, he failed to protect his dimension from the Nightmare Realm._

“Why are you telling me this?” Ford asked. He stifled a curse when the phantasmal versions of him and his family dissipated into pink mist.

Again, Axolotl ignored his question. _Once upon a time, there was a child whose name has been lost to the ages._

Ford startled as a tiny, miserable-looking triangle appeared next to him. His single eye was bigger than Ford remembered, and filled with a lonely sort of resignation.

_The child shared his name with several others across the multiverse._

Several other triangular beings formed out of condensing pink mist. Some were bigger than the triangle next to Ford, while others came in different shapes or colours. Still, he could all recognize them as the monster who had made his existence a living hell for over thirty years.

_Once upon a time, there was a world that thrived on rules, a world that pushed aside those who were different, deeming them to be undesirable._

Ford’s eyes went from his six-fingered hands to the small triangle. Rage burned within him. Was the Axolotl seriously trying to make him feel sorry for _Bill Cipher_ of all people?

_The child hated it._

The small triangle was looking upward, his single eye aflame with loathing. He reached for something Ford could not see, the rest of his brethren watching him almost greedily.

_The child thought he would make his world better by breaking it. He could remake it anew, so there would be no more rules. So the freaks could have a place in it, too._

There was a loud crack, and the peaceful, cloud-filled horizon split apart. Ford reeled back, painfully reminded of the rift that had ripped apart the sky of Gravity Falls.

_No one knows how he did it, but the child reached across the multiverse. He took within himself every version of him that had ever lived, fusing past, present and future within the confines of his being._

The countless triangles floating around Axolotl’s dimension flared with a white light. They surged toward the version of Bill floating next to Ford, filling him with energy, making him glow brighter than a star.

_Where there had been many Bill Ciphers, there was now just one, his presence stretched across the multiverse._

The triangle shone with all the colours of the rainbow, growing bigger and bigger, before settling on a familiar—and _sickening_ , to Ford’s eyes—shade of yellow. The child who would become Bill Cipher took great care to adjust his new top hat and bow tie. It was absurd, but Ford was reminded of the way a kid would put on their parent’s clothes to play pretend.

_The child used his newfound powers to remake his universe as he saw fit. He set out to create a world where no one would push him aside, a world where no one would refuse him anything._

_A world where no one grew up, where no one grew old. Where time was dead and meaning had no meaning_.

There was a sudden burst of warmth, and Ford raised his arm over his face to shield him from the heat. Blue fire burned everywhere in his vision, and screams filled his ears.

_Instead, he created the Nightmare Realm._

And suddenly, Ford was floating amidst a terrifyingly familiar place. A swirling vortex of eye-searing colours surrounded him, assaulting all of his senses. The malevolent aura of the place pressed down his chest, making it hard to breathe. Stars bled and died while the stench of burning bodies filled Ford’s nose, and he fought to keep himself from vomiting.

Amidst this celebration of the grotesque, Bill Cipher sat triumphantly on a throne of living, _screaming_ flesh, great eye fixed on Ford like a red sun.

Before Ford could scream, these illusions dissipated. Soon, he was surrounded by pink clouds again, thousands of stars shimmering in the distance.

“So that’s what happened. He told me he’d destroyed his world, but…” Ford wiped the sweat from his brow, hands trembling. “But Bill’s _dead_. It just doesn’t matter anymore. Why are you showing me this?”

The Axolotl bore down on him, dark eyes inscrutable. Then, he spoke.

_Blue fire burns everything in its path  
Reminder of destruction brought in wrath_

_To death, he calls to escape retribution  
Instead, he founds forced redemption _

_Turn back the clock, change the scenery  
What was one breaks and becomes many_

_A newborn child cries, and he’s never known  
Why he is weighed by a burden not his own_

_Destined to pay for another’s crime  
In another world, another time._

It took Ford several precious seconds to grasp the meaning in Axolotl’s words. When he finally understood, however, he _exploded_.

“You’ve… you’ve let Bill Cipher be _reincarnated?_ How… how could _you?!_ Do you have any inkling of the hell I’ve been through because of him?! And…” Ford’s blood ran cold as the full horror of Axolotl’s actions dawned on him. “And as long as he lives, my family is in terrible danger!”

 _Is that so?_ Axolotl asked.

“As if _he_ , of all people, deserved to be redeemed! You’ve doomed us just to—” Cold terror rose within him, replacing the flames of anger, and Ford suddenly stopped. “Wait… what was it that you said about Bill’s new form?”

There was no answer from the creature.

“Why did you show me the original Stanford’s life?” Ford asked, almost in a whisper. “That’s… there’s no… there’s no link between…” He could not finish his sentence. The horror of the stray thought that had struck him seemed too great to be put into words.

Axolotl stayed silent. Then, very softly, he repeated, _Another world, another time._

“The original Stanford didn’t have a Stanley,” Ford realized, feeling feverish. “There wasn’t a second baby… oh, oh, _god_ , no… _NO!_ ”

_Once upon a time, there was one Bill Cipher. Once upon a time, there were several Stanley Pineses._

“NO!” Ford shouted. “That’s impossible, that can’t be true! You’re _lying!_ ”

Axolotl seemed surprised by Ford’s outburst. _I thought you looked lonely. I wanted to give you a friend._

“What… what kind of sick joke is this?!” Ford tried to move away from the creature, but his body wouldn’t budge. “There’s no link between Stan and Bill, none!”

 _How strange_ , Axolotl said _. I thought you loved your brother._

Ford grabbed his face, body shaking with uncontrollable shudders. The Axolotl remained silent, watching Ford’s breakdown with unfathomable black eyes.

Sixty years’ worth of memories flashed through Ford’s mind. Spending days at the beach, working with _him_ on a common dream. Cowering in the school courtyard while _he_ fought what should have been Ford’s battles. Spending time in their makeshift hideout, taking comfort in _his_ words, hearing, _you’re not a freak, you’re better than them, you’re my best friend._

Realizing that _he_ had come running even after ten years spent apart, saying, _we’ll face this together, we’ll work it out, we’ll be a team again._ Seeing _him_ standing on shaky feet on that fateful day, offering _his_ soul to the devil in a hopeless attempt to right Ford’s wrongs.

All of it, every second of sixty years’ worth of love and devotion, it was nothing but a farce. The man in Ford’s memories was not Stan, it had never been. It was _Bill_ wearing a human skin, Bill again, Bill _always_.

Ford held his face with his hands, incapable of stopping the nausea surging through him. He had finally started to believe he could escape his Muse’s clutches, he had thought he could move on and learn to laugh and smile and _trust_ again.

Now Ford knew better.

Each of Stan’s grins, each of his gruff hugs, each of their shared high sixes. His dumb jokes, his stupid stories, his childish love for adventure. The way he was so protective of the people he loved, the way his eyes lit up whenever he caught sight of Dipper and Mabel, the way he comforted Ford after every nightmare.

It was all just a con, _all of it_.

Ford would never be _free_.

 _How strange_ , the Axolotl’s voice said _._ Again, he sounded exactly the same as before, as if he’d rewound time just to say those words. _I thought you loved your brother._

Ford clutched at his chest, fighting an urge to retch. “I _do_ … he’s my best friend…” He turned furious, reddened eyes toward the creature. “W-What did I do to deserve this? And D-Dipper and Mabel! They love him so much! How dare you do that to _them?!_ ”

 _Doesn’t he love you too?_ Axolotl seemed deep in thought. _At least, that’s how it seems to me._

“Bill _can’t_ love!” A peal of crazed laughter escaped Ford’s mouth. “He doesn’t even know the _meaning_ of the word!”

_I thought we were talking about your brother?_

“You… you don’t get it, do you? You said it yourself. Stan _is_ Bill.” Just saying it out loud nearly made Ford throw the content of his stomach all over his boots.

 _They’re not the same person,_ Axolotl said, nonplussed _. Just as you are not the same man as all of the other Stanford Pineses drawing breath in the multiverse. They’ve not lived the same life, after all._

Tears burned at Ford’s eyes. “Does he… does he have _any_ memories? Of that time? Of when he was Bill?”

_Do you have the memories of all of the other Stanford Pineses drawing breath in the multiverse? Why would you? You’ve not lived the same life, after all._

“I… I don’t… I’m not…” The words seemed to catch in Ford’s throat. “It can’t have all been fake, can it? All these years, everything he did for us…”

 _Why would it be fake?_ Axolotl seemed genuinely childlike in his confusion.

Ford loudly exhaled, feeling like he’d aged ten years in the span of a few minutes. “I don’t know… _I don’t know anything_.”

All that time he had taken pride in his intelligence, in the knowledge he’d accumulated over sixty years’ worth of living… was it just another delusion to add to a growing pile of lies?

“I don’t know a damn thing, and the children are counting on me!” Ford shouted, voice hoarse. “Their lives are in my hands, and _yet_ …”

 _You can stay here,_ Axolotl offered. _This dimension exists out of time, out of space. You can stay here as long as you want. Until you’re ready._

“Until I’m ready…”

Where a tired old man had once stood, there was now a small boy with six fingers on each hand. His brown eyes were wide, _fearful_ , behind his glasses. “Okay,” Stanford Pines said, in the shaky voice of a child seeking reassurance. “I’ll stay here until I figure it out.”

_I’ll keep watch until you come to your answer._

The boy held his knees to himself as he floated in the pink mist. He said nothing else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey, so the Same Coin theory comes from this [here post](https://dubsdeedubs.tumblr.com/post/148072136190/a-time-pirates-theory-spoilers-now-same-coin), which is some real good stuff, go check it out, peeps.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just a head's up, but trigger warning for some suicidal ideation in this chapter.

Grunkle Ford looked like he was simply sleeping.

Mabel had propped him on a mountain of cushions, saying she didn’t want him to end up with ‘old man back problems’ like Grunkle Stan. He seemed comfortable enough, which was a small relief. Still, worry gnawed at Dipper. In the dim lighting of the library, his uncle’s skin seemed deathly pale.

“Is it me or is his breathing getting shallower?” Dipper said. “It’s not just me, right?”

Mabel inspected their uncle, brushing a strand of grey hair from his forehead. “He seems fine to me. You worry too much, Dipper. Have a little faith in him!”

“Right,” Dipper said, still scowling. “Everything’s gonna be sunshine and rainbows, and we’re _totally_ not going to lose _both_ of them.”

He felt a twinge of shame as Mabel’s smile vacillated and disappeared. Her lower lip wobbled, and she cast her eyes downward.

“It’s just been one hour,” Kyan said. “I think Mabel is right, we should give him more time.”

“If you say so,” Dipper said, not entirely convinced.

A tense silence followed, and Dipper continued drawing magical sigils in his journal. He knew it was pointless to keep practising, but he had to keep his mind occupied; otherwise, he knew he was going to turn crazy.

Mabel observed Dipper as he worked on his sketches. “Do these things only work if you draw them in the air?” she asked. “Like, what if you have a bunch of them already drawn on bits of paper? Wouldn’t that be easier?”

“I guess so,” Kyan said. “I’ve never thought about it, to be honest.”

“Oh!” Mabel snapped her fingers. “What if you stitch them on fabric? Like in that anime Melody likes so much? The one with the hot guy that makes fire with his gloves?”

Dipper blinked. “Huh. Mabel, you’re _brilliant_.”

She wiggled her eyebrows, twisting a strand of hair around one finger. “Why the surprised tone, brobro?”

“There’s no harm in trying,” Kyan said with a shrug. “I’m not one for stitching, though,”

“Thank goodness you’ve been blessed by my presence, then,” Mabel said.

“Once Grunkle Ford wakes up, we’ll give it a try.” Dipper frowned. “ _If_ Grunkle Ford wakes up.”

“Stop that!” Mabel said, pointing an accusing finger at him. “We won’t help Grunkle Ford or Grunkle Stan by being such Debbies Downers! We need to focus on how to make things _better!_ ”

“Yeah.” Dipper felt his shoulders slumping forward. “Guess you’re—”

Dipper’s response was cut off when Zuri irrupted in the library, panting and scowling.

“Sis?” Kyan said. “What’s going on?”

Both he and Dipper startled when they heard voices, even _laughter_ , coming from the distance. They exchanged worried glances.

Zuri reached for one of their energy spears, letting out something that sounded like a curse. “Some people are coming! I think it’s those looters your uncle scared off!”

“Oh man,” said Dipper. “That’s not good… we have to keep them away from here!”

“We can’t let them hurt Grunkle Ford!” Mabel added, draping her arms protectively around their uncle’s sleeping form.

“I vote we kick them out,” Zuri snarled. “Who wanna join me?”

“I’ll do it!” Mabel said, grabbing Grunkle Ford’s laser gun and jumping to her feet. “No one messes with my family!”

“ _Mabel_ —” Dipper began.

“You stay here with Kyan to protect him!” Mabel ordered. “Us girls, we’ll take care of everything!”

“I like your attitude, kid,” Zuri said with a lazy grin that reminded Dipper of Wendy. “We won’t take long, don’t worry.”

“Wait!” said Dipper, but she and Mabel were already bolting out of the library, weapons in hand. Kyan rushed after them, closing the door and building a makeshift barricade with a couch. Dipper remained by Grunkle Ford’s side, feeling more useless than ever.

As if on cue, a low groan filtered through the man’s mouth. Ford’s brow furrowed, and his limbs went unnaturally stiff. He thrashed on his spot, clenching his jaw.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Dipper said in a horrified mutter. “W-What’s happening? What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know!” Kyan replied, equally panicked. From far away came a series of shouts, and even the sound of a gunshot. “I told you, I never did that kind of ritual spell before!”

“Grunkle Ford?” Dipper said. Of course the man did not respond, only making the same pained sounds as before. “Oh man, this isn’t good, this isn’t good at all…”

“What should we do?” Kyan said.

“Do the ritual on me,” Dipper said in a rush. “Send me to where his mind went. Wherever that is.”

“ _What?_ Dipper, this is crazy, we don’t know—”

“ _Please_ , Kyan.” Dipper hoped his voice seemed steady enough. “I’ll be fine, trust me.”

Kyan sent a frightened glance toward the door, before locking eyes with Dipper. Eventually, he nodded. “Okay. But be careful, a-alright?”

Dipper could only offer him a wobbly smile in return.

* * *

Stanford Pines rarely cried.

He had learned that lesson early. “You really want to give people more reason to laugh at you?” his father had once told him, after a schoolyard brawl that had ended with a bully breaking Stan’s glasses and two of Ford’s baby teeth. “You can’t do a thing about those hands of yours, but you can hold on to your dignity. Otherwise, you’ll make all of us look bad.”

Eight-year-old Stanford had taken his father’s teachings to heart. Over sixty years of living, he could count the number of times he’d cried on the fingers of both hands.

No tears left his eyes as he hugged his knees. His body hovered in the air, swayed by an otherworldly wind, making him feel like a boat on a peaceful sea. If he strained his ears enough, he could almost hear the sound of the surf lapping on the shore. He easily imagined the familiar stench of seaweed and salt clogging his nostrils.

In here, he could almost forget where he was, _who_ he was.

What he had just learned.

Ford grit his teeth, bringing his knees closer to his chest. No, no, no. He should—would— _could_ not dwell on that terrible revelation, he could not think about that childish voice saying those horrible words—

Wait. The _Axolotl_. When had he last heard the Axolotl’s voice?

Ford’s eyes snapped open.

Where the Axolotl had been, Ford found only void. Gone were the pink mist and the starry blue sky.

Only blackness surrounded him.

Ford gasped, heart racing. “No!” he whispered, in a child’s voice. “No, no, no…”

He was alone in the darkness.

Ford rushed forward, finding solid ground beneath his feet. He ran until he was out of breath, desperate to find signs of someone, _anyone_.

“Help!” he called, in his high, boyish voice. “Please!”

A noise echoed in the emptiness, startling him. _Footsteps_. And a pair of voices shouting his name.

Ford whirled on his feet, recognizing two familiar figures running toward him. Mabel jumped into his arms, shoulders shaking. It was strange, being only a few inches taller than her. Dipper followed after his sister, relief flooding his face as he caught sight of Ford.

“We found you,” he said. “Thank goodness!”

“Why are you here?” Ford said, hoarsely. He didn’t know whether or not he was grateful for their presence or frightened out of his mind. “That’s not what we agreed! You shouldn’t have come!”

“You just wouldn’t wake up!” Mabel said. “We were so scared! Did something happen?”

Ford extricated himself from her embrace, suddenly feeling very cold. Somewhere in his mind came the Axolotl’s words, heavy with the weight of betrayal.

 _A newborn child cries, and he’s never known_ _  
Why he is weighed by a burden not his own_

“Did you find something, Grunkle Ford?” Dipper said, grabbing one of Ford’s arms.

Ford nearly swatted his nephew’s hand away, feeling sick to his stomach. “I… I don’t…”

 _Destined to pay for another’s crime_ _  
In another world, another time._

“Grunkle Ford?” Mabel said. “What’s wrong?”

Ford fought the urge to retch, simply uttering, “T-That’s not important right now! You shouldn’t be here! We need to go, now!”

“Wait!” Dipper said. “What about Grunkle Stan? Did you learn how we can save him?”

“ _Save him?_ ” Ford spat out; it almost felt like the words were burning his tongue. “ _Why?_ ”

The children stepped back as if he had struck them.

“What?” Mabel said. “Why are you saying that, Grunkle Ford…?”

“Are you still mad at him? Even after everything he’s done for us?” A hint of anger showed in Dipper’s voice.

 _(“W-What did I do to deserve this?”_ Ford remembered screaming at the Axolotl. _“And D-Dipper and Mabel! They love him so much! How dare you do that to_ _them?!_ _”)_

“I’m not mad, I just…” A noise of irritation escaped Ford’s mouth. “Never mind that. He’s not what you think he is, you know. What if he pulled this con on us? What if you find out that all those years he’s been faking who he is, _what_ he is? What would you do, then?”

“It’s easy to know when he’s faking,” Mabel said. “He smiles, but his eyes stay sad. That’s how he always acted when I asked him if it hurt that you wouldn’t speak to him after you came back!”

“He did lie to us,” Dipper admitted. “About the portal. But he felt guilty about it. And he did it because he was trying to save you!”

“And he faked being you to trick Bill,” Mabel said. “He was so _scared_ , but he did it anyway!”

“To save the world!” said her brother.

“To save _you!_ ” Mabel added.

“NO!” Ford shouted. “Don’t you see, _DON’T YOU SEE?_ It’s all fake, all of it!”

The children cowered, but Ford didn’t care. He held his face in his hands and screamed, “He’s a fake, he’s always been!”

There was no answer from the twins. Ford looked up, and his stomach sunk to his heels.

The kids were _gone_.

“What?” he said, whirling around to find any hint of them in this oppressive darkness. “Dipper? _Mabel!_ ”

More silence greeted his ears. Ford let out a scream of frustration. “I’m getting tired of all of this! What stupid game are you playing, Axolotl?!”

It took him a while to realize that the voice that had come out of his mouth was deeper, coarser. He’d grown to his full adult height, and he was wearing his ratty old trench coat over a shirt stained with sweat and specks of dried blood.

Cursing through grit teeth, he set out in the darkness to search for the twins. His heart thumped loudly in his ears. Was that a hint of Mabel’s colourful sweater he spied out of the corner of his eye? Had he just caught sight of Dipper’s telltale hat? Ford did not know; he only kept walking, dragging his feet along the way.

Finally, he came upon a rather strange sight.

Ford’s mouth hung open in confusion. What greeted his eyes resembled a set from a TV show. He recognized the yellowed fridge and the crooked cabinets immediately. This was the Mystery Shack’s kitchen. Stan was busying himself over the stove, clad in that ugly red bathrobe of his. Ford tensed, muttering a curse, when another version of him walked inside. Stan glanced over his shoulder, and his expression turned stormy.

“Oh,” he said. “It’s _you_. Whaddya want?”

Ford’s other self scowled at Stan. “I’m hungry. And in sore need of a cup of coffee.”

Stan glanced at the pot of freshly made coffee still steaming next to the stove. He let out a bark of mirthless laughter. “Wait, so you expect _me_ to feed you? As if paying your mortgage and, yeah, _your goddamned student debt_ wasn’t enough!”

“If you hadn’t sent me through the portal thirty years ago—” Ford’s other self said heatedly.

“ _Save it_ ,” Stan snapped. “Go to the diner, or something. I don’t care. I’m not your maid, I won’t make lunch for you.”

“I don’t have any _money_ , Stanley.”

“Oh, gee, go find a job maybe? Be a productive member of society or whatever. Don’t be a leech, you know.” Stan flashed a nasty grin. “See? I took Pa’s lessons to heart. Then again, so did you, considering what you said yesterday. I’m not the only one who grew up to be jus’ like him, huh?”

Ford’s other self let out a growl. “ _Stanley_ …”

“C’mon. Aren’t you glad I’ll be soon out of your hair?”

“Wait,” Ford found himself saying. “That’s not what I meant back—”

They were interrupted when a tiny purple whirlwind irrupted into the kitchen. Mabel was grinning, holding a piece of paper in her hands.

“Hey, you guys!” she said. “Wait, am I interrupting something?”

“ _Nahhh_ ,” Stan said. “Fordsie and I were just havin’, uh, a conversation, is all. Something wrong, kitten?”

“I just wanted to show you guys something.” Her grin faltered. “Were you guys arguing?”

“Nope,” Stan lied, while Ford’s other self simply uttered, “Not at all.”

“Okay,” Mabel said, “so I was having trouble writing this letter to Mom and Dad. I just couldn’t find the right words, you know? Finding out you have a secret uncle who’s journeyed through the multiverse is not something that happens every day!”

Stan rolled his eyes, but Ford’s past self smiled a little.

“So I decided to add a picture of you guys to help!”

Mabel unfolded her piece of paper. Next to the letter she had penned for her parents was a crayon drawing of Stan and Ford. The two of them were holding hands.

One of Stan’s eyes twitched. Still, he was soon giving their niece a forced smile. “Uh. That’s nice, peanut.”

Ford’s past self said nothing. Ford was seized with the sudden urge to throttle him.

“I knew you’d approve,” Mabel added. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you make a copy so you can put it in the secret collection you’re making of all my drawings.”

Stan lifted a brow. “Secret collection? There’s no secret collection.”

“You _liiie!_ ” Mabel exclaimed, poking him in the belly. “Liar, liar, pants on fire!”

“What can I say?” Stan replied. “Might be worth quite a penny when you’ll become a world-famous artist.” His lips quirked into a smile when she punched him playfully.

“You’re terrible!” she told him. “Alright, I’ll let you hold on to it for now!” And with that, she skipped out of the kitchen.

Stan’s past self looked at the drawing with a strange expression, full of self-loathing. Ford’s heart twisted when he remembered what his brother was about to do.

Stan ripped the drawing to shreds, throwing all the pieces to the garbage bin.

“Stanley!” Ford’s past self hissed. “What are you doing?”

“You really want the kids’ dad to start wonderin’ why ‘Uncle Stanford’s’ dead twin is suddenly back from the dead? Yeah, well, I ain’t dealing with this crap.”

“But Mabel—”

“Listen,” Stan said gruffly, “if she asks about it, just tell her you spilled coffee on it or something.”

“ _What?!_ I’m not the one who just—”

“You owe me that, at least,” Stan cut him off. He poured a cup of coffee, and handed it to Ford. “Now go back to your basement or whatever. You hate my guts for ruining your life, remember?”

Ford opened and closed his mouth in quick succession, not knowing what to make of such words. His other self, however, only scowled and said, “Why are you always so _difficult?_ ”

“Dunno. Guess I was born to be a torn in your side.”

With a huff, Ford’s past self turned on his heel, leaving Stan alone in the bleary shadows of the kitchen.

Ford stared at him, a sour mouth invading his mouth. The words of the Axolotl kept looping in his mind.

_(I thought you looked lonely, I thought you looked lonely, I thought you looked lonely—)_

Ford fought an urge to scream.

_(I wanted to give you a friend.)_

The kitchen disappeared from view, leaving Ford in darkness once more.

* * *

Ford stumbled onto more of these scenes as he wandered this strange void.

All of them seemed to centre on Stan’s life. Ford saw moments he’d shared with his brother in childhood, but also less savoury parts of his brother’s existence. Living in squalor and sleeping with a baseball bat next to his bed. Laughing and crying and _screaming_ at the accursed hunk of metal hidden under the Mystery Shack. Trying to sweet-talk his way out of trouble in prison and getting a beating for all of his efforts.

All of these scenes only served as a poignant reminder. Ford didn’t know the man who was supposedly his brother. He never had; he had only fooled himself into believing such a thing.

Exhaustion slowed each of Ford’s steps, but he kept going, mainly out of spite. His hopes of getting out of here—of finding Dipper and Mabel and getting them home—were burning up into ashes. Of course he’d been naïve to think it would be so easy. The game had been rigged from the _start_ —from the moment he’d been born as the target of the multiverse’s cruellest joke.

Eventually, Ford stopped, in an effort to ease his legs and catch his breath. Next to him was a familiar scenery: the boardwalk back home in Jersey, with all of its second-rate attractions. A teenage version of Stan was ambling down the pier, arm wrapped around a girl with long, dark hair. Ford racked his brains trying to remember her name. She had been Stan’s high school girlfriend, hadn’t she? Carla something or other?

Stan was wearing a leather jacket, and Ford felt a pang of nostalgia at the sight of the stupid thing. Beside his car, it had been Stan’s most prized possession. He had spent _weeks_ helping in the kitchens of the diner next door to buy it (saving up for his car had taken the whole of the summer after their sixteenth birthday, in comparison).

Carla was complaining about her mother. Stan didn’t seem to pay her much mind; he kept looking at her with the dopiest grin imaginable.

“And now she wants me to babysit again this Saturday,” Carla said, pouting. “She knew I had something planned with the girls, she knew!”

“What if I come over to help?” Stan suggested. “Your brothers like having me around, yeah?”

“They _love_ you,” Carla said with a giggle. “They think you’re the coolest guy on the block.”

“’Course they do,” Stan said. “My Ma didn’t raise no charming boy.”

Carla patted his chest. “You’ll make such a good daddy one of these days, Stanley.”

Stan goggled at her, replying with only stutters. Carla laughed again, squeezing his arm.

Ford watched them go without saying anythng. It was lucky that Stan never had kids, in the end.

Bile rose in Ford’s mouth as soon as the thought passed through his mind. What would Dipper and Mabel have said—what would that boy _Soos_ have said—if they learned Ford believed such a thing?

Ford shook his head, gritting his teeth. He pictured their sweet, innocent faces in his mind, and anger surged in his chest. None of them knew that their love was being wasted on a fabrication. On a meat sack inhabited by a demon who had repeatedly tried to murder them.

“There you are!” a familiar voice shouted, startling Ford out of his dark thoughts. A teenage version of him was stomping toward Stan and his girlfriend. “I’ve been looking for you _everywhere!_ ”

“Oh, hey, Sixer!” Stan said. “Whoa, what’s up? I can almost see the steam coming out of your ears, heh.”

“I’ve been waiting for almost an hour!” Ford’s teenage self yelled. “You said we’d be working on the boat after you finished your shift at the diner tonight!”

“I did?” Stan said, scratching at his chin. “Huh. Guess I forgot.” He gave his girlfriend a smarmy grin. “Well, what can I say? Time flies by when you’re in good company.”

“ _Stanley!_ ” Ford’s teenage self tightened his hands into fists, showing just what he thought of that excuse.

Carla was not smiling, however. “Maybe I should just go. It’s starting to get late, anyway.” She gave Stan a peck on the check. “See you tomorrow, then. And, um… sorry, Ford. See you at school, too.”

“Goodbye, Carla,” Ford’s teenage self replied, icily.

With one last wave of the hand, she was gone, leaving the two brothers and their silent observer on the boardwalk. Ford’s past self was tapping his foot in an impatient manner.

“What are we waiting for?” Stan said. “There’s still time before sunset, we can work on the boat a little.”

“No, there isn’t!” Ford’s teenage self said. “I told you I wanted to go home early because I need to study for the math test!”

“It’s in three days,” Stan said with a snort. “’sides, s’not like you actually need to study, Poindexter.”

“Yes, I _do!_ And so do you!”

Stan laughed out loud. “As if that would make a difference! Why should I bother?”

Ford’s teenage self mumbled something that Stan did not hear. Ford, however, remembered quite well the words that had left his mouth back then.

 _‘Why should you bother indeed?’_ was what he’d meant to say.

“Aw, c’mon! Let’s just ditch the studyin’, you’ll be fine!”

“No, I won’t! Why are you always so unreliable, Stanley?!”

One of Stan’s eyes twitched. “ _Stanford_ —”

Ford’s teenage self abruptly turned on his heel. “Whatever. Work on the boat if you want, I’m going home.”

The scene evaporated from view before Stan could place a word.

* * *

Ford walked on.

On and on and on and _on_ —

His anger had dimmed down, leaving only an exhausted sort of resignation. He would never leave this place, he knew it now. His only regret was dragging Dipper and Mabel into this mess. His heart twisted at the thought of them. The children would have been better off never meeting him—

 _No_. They would have been better off never meeting the one calling himself _Stanley Pines_.

A flurry of white swept by, making Ford stop in his tracks. _Snow_. He watched an errant snowflake melt on his bare hand with utter disinterest. The wind was coming from another scene, one lit in the flickering light of a dying lamppost.

A twenty-something Stan was squatting in an alleyway, smoking a cigarette. The rest of his surroundings was lost in the blizzard. Stan shivered, tightening his hood around his face. His skin was almost as pale as the snow, and it stretched tautly against his cheekbones.

Stan let out a series of curses when his cigarette went out. With fumbling fingers, he tried to light it again, to no avail. Finally, Stan let himself slide to the cold ground, hugging his knees to keep warm. Ford hovered near his brother, throat tight with an emotion he could not name.

A four-legged creature came paddling from the other end of the way. It was the ugliest dog Ford had ever seen: completely bald, with its tongue sticking out in the most bizarre of grimaces. Stan stared at the dog with squinted eyes, looking wholly unimpressed.

“Huh,” said Stan. “Lookit you. You’re uglier than me, and that’s sayin’ somethin’.”

The dog looked back at Stan with a cross-eyed stare. His tail began to wag.

“Wow,” Stan said with a dry chuckle. “You’re like, the first living being in a while who’s happy to see me.” He took something out of his coat. It was a squished, half-eaten sandwich. “You hungry? It’s not much of a meal, but at least you’ll have somethin’ in your belly.”

The mutt scarfed down the sandwich, mouldy bits and all. It looked at Stan again, mouth hanging open stupidly, eyes shining with hope.

“Sorry, pooch,” Stan said. “That’s all I had. The rest of my stuff’s in my car. ‘cept, you know, it’s been impounded an’ all.” He let out a laugh. “I parked it in the wrong spot. _I parked it in the wrong spot._ You don’t know half the shit I’ve pulled with my baby without getting caught. I mean, what a joke…”

The dog only continued to stare, tongue lolling out of his jaw.

“’course I don’t have the money to get it out of there.” A sad little smile played along the edge of Stan’s mouth. “I guess that’s that, huh? Maybe I should close my eyes and jus’… let things run their course. Seems peaceful, in a way. Less messy and painful than bein’ shot at, I tell ya.”

A terror as cold and grand as a tidal wave threatened to engulf Ford. “No!” he screamed at the younger version of his brother. “Don’t you dare do that, Stanley Pines, don’t you dare!”

The words had come out all of their own, and Ford clamped both hands over his mouth. At the same time, Stan abruptly sat up, eyes growing wide.

“Wha? The hell…?”

Ford froze. Stan had heard him, somehow. _Stan had heard him_. He walked over to his brother, pointing at his chest. “There are so, _so_ many people who love you, Stanley Pines! Some of them aren’t even born yet, but… you got to live, Stan! You got to live so you can meet them!”

Why was Ford telling him this? Stan Pines didn’t exist, not really. Stan Pines was a _construction_. Why was Ford acting as if _all of this mattered?_

Stan shot the dog a confused look. “Uh… ya hear somethin’? Am I going crazy?”

“You will stand up this instant and find some shelter,” Ford continued, unable to stop the words from leaving his mouth, “or so help me, I’ll haunt you until I get you to listen to me!”

Stan jumped to his feet. “Shit. _Oh_ -kay, place’s got those spooky whispers or somethin’. Must be haunted. Either that, or I’m fit for the loony bin again.”

“Again…?” Ford said, despondently. “You went to a psychiatric institute, Stanley…?”

“Better find someplace else, then.” Stan jutted his chin at the dog. “Hey. Comin’ with?”

The ugly mutt yelped, twirling on his spot in excitement.

Stan limped away from Ford, followed by the bald dog. Soon, the entire alleyway was gone from sight, leaving only darkness. Still, Ford’s coat was covered by snowflakes. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest.

It was all fake. _Stan_ was a fake. And _yet_ —

A familiar giggle caught his attention.

Ford’s gaze snapped upward. Not far away, another scene had sprung up. A procession of people wearing black stood with their heads hung down, while someone at their front—a rabbi?—droned on. A funeral, Ford supposed.

No, he realized with a pang, recognizing some familiar faces among the people present. His brother _Shermie’s_ funeral.

A couple in their thirties stood beside two young children. The little girl had thick brown curls, and she seemed bored out of her mind. Behind her father stood an older man; Stan’s grey hair was thicker than it was now, and it still bore a few darker streaks.

Five-year-old Mabel narrowed her eyes at him. For a moment, Ford’s brother remained the perfect picture of aloofness. Then, in a very deliberate fashion, he stuck out his tongue at her.

Mabel gasped. “Mom! The weird old man made a funny face at me again!”

Mabel’s mother glanced at Stan, who shrugged in a nonchalant manner. Still, the moment she had her back turned, he made another grimace at Mabel.

This time, the little girl laughed out loud. It was a delighted—and _delightful_ —sound. “You made another face! I saw you, I did!”

Stan feigned shock. “Who, me?” he stage-whispered. “Surely you must mean someone else!”

“I saw you too!” the little boy next to her added in a mutter. _Dipper_ , Ford realized. “Stop making fun of us!”

“Sheesh, you’re a smart one, ain’tcha?” Stan told him. “I bet there’s nothing that can get past you, kiddo.”

Dipper puffed out his chest, and Ford let out a sound between a laugh and a sob at the sight of his proud little face.

“That’s right!” Mabel said. Unlike Stan and her brother, she definitely wasn’t whispering. Several funeral goers sent her dismayed looks. “My brother’s super smart, everyone says so! He knows the names of all the planets, and of like, all the dinosaurs too! I bet you don’t even know what a brashi—bratio _—bratchizo_ —“

“Brachiosaurus,” Dipper helpfully supplied.

Mabel snapped her fingers. “Yeah, that! I bet you don’t know about the brachizozorus, old man!”

“Oh man, you got me!” Stan said, holding a hand to his heart dramatically. “I don’t know anything about the brachizozorus!”

Dipper and Mabel’s father let out a chuckle. He was smiling through his tears. His wife hid her mouth with her hand, looking equally amused.

“ _Brachiosaurus_ ,” Dipper whispered, sounding almost affronted.

His father burst into laughter, earning himself glares from the rest of the procession. Stan grinned, clearly pleased with this outcome.

A second later, and he was gone, along with the rest of the procession.

Ford stood alone, only now realizing how his hand was hovering in the air.

Almost as if he’d wanted to put it on his brother’s shoulder.

Ford inspected his hand, not knowing what to think. Before he could ponder the implication of his action, Ford heard a high-pitched voice. Not far away he spied another scene: a boy was laughing as he attempted to climb a bed occupied by a dark-haired woman. Mute with shock, Ford advanced toward them.

Sunlight poured into a cramped hospital room.

The woman spoke with a thick Jersey accent. The child was a dead ringer for Dipper. He also closely resembled Ford and Stan when they had been children. As for the woman—well, Ford would have recognized her face anywhere. That sharp, aquiline nose, those heavily lidded eyes, that thick, dark hair… Ford felt something tugging at his heartstrings at the sight of her tired little smile.

“Ma?” he said, very quietly. “Shermie?”

Caryn Pines showed no sign that she could see or hear him. In her arms, there were two little bundles.

“Oh,” was all Ford could say at the sight of the two babies. They were ugly, wrinkly things, yet his mother looked at them like they were the most precious treasures in the world.

A man in a three-piece suit stood by the bed, his expression stony as always. Ford approached him with careful, halting steps. He was taller than his father had been, with a broader chest to boot. The realization was startling. When Ford had been a boy, the man seemed a _giant_. So much of his childhood had been spent keeping his head low in an attempt to evade the rage ever brimming under that stern exterior. Yet, Filbrick Pines now appeared utterly unremarkable to his adult eyes.

“There’s two of them,” Filbrick told his wife, bluntly.

“Why are ya looking at me like that?” Caryn said, giving him a dry look. “Like it’s _my_ fault or somethin’? Last I checked, it takes two ta make—”

“ _Caryn_ ,” Filbrick said, and Ford saw him glancing toward Shermie.

Ford’s mother laughed out loud in response, making Ford smile.

Filbrick only scoffed, shaking his head. “ _Twins_. We haven’t prepared for twins. That just threw a wrench in the family budget.” He looked more closely at one of the babies—at Ford’s infant self, in fact—and frowned. “What’s wrong with his hands?”

Caryn gasped, looking like she was fighting an urge to slap her husband. “Filbrick Pines, ya old grouch, you stop this right now! There’s nothin’ wrong with my baby’s hands! My uncle Lev, he had six fingers on one hand, you forgot that?”

Filbrick gave a noncommittal grunt.

“My uncle, he lived a normal life, jus’ like anybody!” Caryn let out another bark of laughter. “Man was a genius at card tricks, maybe the extra finger helped?”

Filbrick only answered with a shrug.

Caryn threw him a peeved glance, but soon she was smiling at Shermie. “Here, baby. You wanna hold one of ‘em?”

“’Course!” said Shermie. His little face lit up as Caryn handed one of the twins over to him. Stanley, actually, from the number of fingers on his hand. “Heh! I thought babies were s’posed ta be cute! He looks like a tiny old man or somethin’!”

“Sherman Pines, ya lil’ rascal!” Caryn said. “D’you know how long yer ma suffered ta bring ‘im into the world?”

“Which one of ‘em is it, Ma?”

Caryn pointedly looked at her husband. “Wish I knew. Yer pa hasn’t named ‘em yet.”

“What are you going to call ‘em, Dad?” Shermie asked. “Ma, you’re the one who named me, right?”

“Tha’s right,” Caryn said. “When I was pregnant with you, yer Zayde Isaak, he said to me, ‘my girl, make sure you give yer first boy a good, all-American name’. So I did! An’ now it’s yer pa’s turn ta choose.” She turned to Filbrick. “You wanted ta name the baby Stanford, didn’t ya, honey?”

Filbrick nodded. “Stan for short. A strong, no-nonsense name.”

“What ‘bout this lil’ cutie?” Caryn pointed at the baby in Shermie’s arms. “You found somethin’ for ‘im yet?”

“Can I name him?” Shermie asked excitedly. “What about Buck, like on TV? Or Duke!”

A hint of exasperation showed on Filbrick’s face. “No-nonsense, I said.” Again, his face twisted in frustration. “ _Stanley_. Let’s just go with Stanley.”

“Stanford and Stanley?” Caryn said. “Are ya outta yer mind?”

“Yeah!” said Shermie. “Which one of them would be Stan, then? We can’t go around callin’ them by the same nickname!”

Filbrick made an irritated noise. “They’ll be Stanford and Stanley, and that’s final.”

Ford almost expected his mother to protest, but she only pursed her mouth and remained silent. There was something resentful about her expression. Ford blinked, surprised… and more than a little angry. How many things had he missed about his parents’ marriage because he had only watched them through a child’s eyes?

Still, Caryn’s natural exuberance was not long in returning. “Why, I got the feeling those two troublemakers will end up changing the world!”

“Can you see their futures, Ma?” asked Shermie.

Caryn wiggled her eyebrows, flashing a grin that was painfully Stan-like. “Let’s see… this one’s gonna be a famous actor, and the other… well, he’ll play fer the Yankees jus’ like DiMaggio! Or maybe he’ll be the next—what’s the name of that fancy-schmancy scientist? Einstein?” She chuckled, rocking baby Ford a little. “Who knows?”

“Oh, oh!” said Shermie. “They could be _astronauts!_ They could be the first men on the moon!”

“Good one, baby!” Caryn said.

Ford let out something between a snort and a laugh. He hadn’t known his mother and brother had nursed such lofty ambitions for him and Stanley.

Ford felt his eyes softening. He walked over to his mother, pressing down a kiss to her hair. Caryn closed her eyes and smiled. “Goodbye, Ma. I wish I’d been… well, thank you for everything.”

He went to Shermie, ruffling his brother’s hair. Sherman frowned as he glanced upward, almost as if he could feel the ghostly touch of Ford’s hand. “Take care, Sherm. I’ll keep your grandchildren out of trouble, don’t you worry.”

Then, Ford turned to his father. What was there to say to the man who had considered him an asset at best, a nuisance at worst? The man who had called Stan a worthless parasite while fully expecting to leech on Ford’s successes?

The man who would look at his two sons and call them weaklings because they dared to cherish their strange little family?

There was nothing to say to such a man. Ford simply turned on his heel, continuing on his journey.

* * *

Soon, the smell of grass and pine cones came to Ford’s nose. He felt the whisper of the breeze passing through the trees. Ford’s throat tightened when he finally understood where—and _when_ —he’d arrived.

Sunlight poured into a clearing in a forest.

An old man kneeled in the grass, the wind playing with his grey hair. Another man and two children came out of the forest. The girl in the pink sweater shot toward the man in the clearing, calling his name happily. She grabbed his hands, a smile as bright as dawn breaking on her face.

The man looked around, hesitating. Patting her hands, he said, “Uh, hey… kiddo. What’s your name?”

Soon, the child was in tears, pointing at her chest and repeating, “It’s me, it’s _me!_ ” Her brother held her as she wept; soon, tears were streaking his cheeks as well.

Ford’s past self kneeled in front of his brother. “He saved the world,” he said, voice breaking. “He saved _me_. You’re our hero, Stanley.” And he brought his twin into a hug.

Ford watched the children and his past self bring Stanley back to his house—back to their _home_. Despite knowing the happy outcome of this moment, he felt the pall of grief weighing heavily on his shoulders. The clueless, but contented expression on his brother’s face wiped away the last bit of Ford’s anger, leaving only deep longing and sorrow in its wake.

Ford remained silent as Stan plopped down in his recliner with a sigh. He said nothing as Mabel sat next to her uncle, opening her scrapbook and babbling about the months they had lived together as a family. He kept quiet as Dipper climbed to the other side of Stan, desperately listing all the moments they had shared together.

Ford opened his mouth, however, when Mabel’s pig jumped in Stan’s lap. The realization struck him with the force of a hurricane.

“Waddles,” Ford muttered. “Stanley, the pig’s name is Waddles!”

“Gah!” Stan said, his confusion replaced by a familiar grouchiness. “Quit it, _Waddles_ , I’m tryin’ to remember my life story!”

The children gasped. Mabel held her hands over her mouth.

“What did you say?” Dipper whispered.

“I said, get Waddles off of me!” Stan griped.

“It’s… it’s working!” Ford’s past self cried. “Mabel, keep reading!”

“Skip to my page!” said Soos. “He needs to remember our boss-employee relationship!”

“Soos!” Ford told his brother. “You remember Soos, don’t you?”

“ _Hey_ , jus’ ‘cause I have amnesia, don't go tryin' to give yourself a raise, _Soos_.”

Something between a laugh and a sob escaped Ford’s mouth. Tears prickled at his eyes, and he wiped them with the back of his hand.

He didn’t know how long he stood in the cluttered remains of the Shack’s living room, listening to Dipper and Mabel and Soos and eventually Wendy as they filled Stan’s broken mind with stories. Stan had stepped in when Soos was in need of a father figure who wouldn’t abandon him. Stan had given Wendy a safe place where she could be away from her overbearing family.

Stan put up the best Halloween decorations in town and let the local kids use the Shack for their parties. Stan was a permanent fixture of Gravity Falls, a man as strange and endearing as the oddities found in the tourist trap serving as the town’s lifeblood.

Stan had fought dinosaurs, zombies and _demons_ for Dipper and Mabel’s sakes.

Stan had devoted half of his life to bringing Ford back home.

Stan was an ordinary man who had risen to extraordinary heights through the strength of his devotion to the people he loved.

The scene dissipated in a shower of glittering dust.

And Ford found himself falling.

Hundreds of scenes—appearing like stills from a movie reel—surrounded him as he plummeted in the darkness. But his mind could focus on only two of them. Sunlight pouring into a hospital room. Sunlight pouring into a clearing in the forest. Ford had stood witness to two events happening in impossible synchronicity, one causing the other in a perfect loop.

Ford had stood witness to Stanley Pines’ two births, coming to a realization.

One could not exist without the other.

As soon as the revelation crossed his mind, Ford came to a sudden stop.

In front of him was a mirror, as tall and wide as the entirety of existence.

Ford’s reflection was not the older, grey-haired man he had expected, but a young boy, tense and fearful. The six-fingered child’s lower lip wobbled as he tried to will the tears away.

The mirror cracked.

_I thought you looked lonely._

The broken mirror now showed hundreds, thousands, _millions_ versions of Fords. Each of them had their twin throwing an arm over their shoulders. Hundreds, thousands, millions of Fords grinned and laughed in response, wiping the tears from their eyes.

_I thought you looked lonely._

Ford held his face between both hands, eyes wide, pupils dilating. His brain was processing information coming from infinite timelines and straining at the effort.

The mirror continued to split, each of its infinite facets displaying a happy pair of twins. Did they have any inkling of the heartache that would soon follow?

Did they know they would spend most of their lives apart?

Did they know they would grow to be almost strangers?

_I thought you looked lonely._

_I wanted to give you a friend._

There was one last, thunderous crack.

And suddenly Ford was in a large, circular hall.

Bolts of magical energy crackled in the air, raising the air on his neck. Two women were shouting, their words lost in the chaos of battle. Spells bounced off the pillars surrounding them, exploding in showers of sparks. Three figures were huddled around a dark shape at the base of some stairs. An inverted golden triangle loomed on a platform above. The light of a thousand stars poured through its opening, distorting into a wide array of colours as it entered reality.

A familiar silhouette was floating near the open maw of the dimensional tear. Ford’s brother was drained of all colours—no, he was _see-through_ , like a ghost.

“STANLEY!” Ford screamed.

Ford’s twin looked at him, one eye bloodied and shut tight, the other full of quiet resignation.

“Stanford?” he said, weakly. “Wait… where is your voice coming from…?”

Ford rushed up the stairs, reaching for his brother’s hand. “ _Stanley!_ Hold on, I’m coming for you!”

“It’s alright,” Stan said, with a wistful smile. “It’s better that way…”

“ _Hang in there, Stan!_ ” Ford shouted, but he was already being yanked backward, away from the circular hall and the chaos raging within. “ _I’m coming to save you! I promise!_ ”

Ford flew away from the portal, back into the staircase leading to the first floor of the Temple of Dawn. He went deeper still, first through the floor and then through a great empty space filled with glowing cables. At the base of the great chasm, Ford saw people shackled to the strange apparatuses from which the cables sprouted. Those poor souls seemed barely conscious, with only moans filtering from their chapped lips.

One woman in particular raised her head to him. Her cheeks were hollow, and her seven-eyed gaze was cloudier than in his memory. Yet, she smiled at Ford and said, “You. I knew you would come for me.”

“Jheselbraum,” Ford breathed. “You’re still alive!” He futilely reached for her hand. “Wait, is this the past or the future?”

She did not answer, and Ford’s hand closed around empty air.

When he opened his eyes again, his eyes were greeted by a world of pink and blue.

“GRUNKLE FORD!” twin voices shouted, and Ford found himself knocked off his feet by a blubbering, sweater-clad girl. Mabel hugged his midsection tightly, looking up at him with tearful eyes.

“Ohmigosh, _ohmigosh_ , you just disappeared and we were so scared and we searched everywhere but we couldn’t find you—” the words came out of Mabel’s mouth in a rush.

Ford stroked her hair. “It’s alright, it’s alright…”

Dipper stood a few feet away, looking like he was fighting an urge to cry. Ford motioned for him to come over as well, and the boy joined the family embrace.

 _You found your way back!_ a childlike voice sounded in the air.

Ford felt a familiar presence behind him. Dipper’s face blanched, and he let out a word he’d probably picked up from his uncle Stan. Mabel, on the other hand, looked _delighted_.

“Wow!” she exclaimed. “A giant pink lizard!”

The Axolotl tilted his head. _A lizard? Where?_

“Y-Y-You’re that thing we saw on the tapestries!” Dipper sputtered. “ _Oh my god!_ ”

Ford only smiled at the creature. “Might I presume you had something to do with the little odyssey I’ve just undertaken?”

The Axolotl’s dopey expression did not change. _Odyssey? You went somewhere?_

Ford laughed. “It did not matter. I think I understand perfectly what you wanted to show me.”

 _You’ve come to your truth._ Axolotl looked almost mischievous with his little tongue sticking out. _You’ll be leaving, then?_

“Well, my brother needs saving,” Ford said. “My _baby_ brother.”

_By fifteen minutes._

“Does it even matter?” Dipper said, sounding annoyed.

“Yes, it does!” Mabel answered. Pumping her fist in the air, she chanted, “Al-pha twins, al-pha twins!”

“I’m still the eldest,” Ford said. “And yet he’s protected me more than I protected him. What kind of big brother does that make me?” He shook his head, chuckling to himself. “It’s time to step up and be the twin he deserves.”

 _If you say so_ , the Axolotl said. His tone grew unusually sombre as he added, _Goodbye, Stanford Pines. Until we meet again._

Dipper and Mabel held both of Ford’s hands. It was a simple gesture, but he took comfort in it regardless.

“Goodbye, Axolotl.” Ford offered the strange creature a wry grin. “See you in forty years or so.”

Xolotl, Lord of Twins and Twilight—Lord of the _Dead_ —burst into laughter as they left his abode, hand in hand.


	19. Chapter 19

Pacifica _hated_ biking up the hill leading back home.

Riding a bicycle wasn’t exactly something she particularly enjoyed. Not long ago, she’d had her personal chauffeur to tend to her every need. Now… well, in truth, it wasn’t as if she didn’t have other options. Tate always offered to drive her around town if she needed, and now she had Soos being his overly helpful self as well. She rarely accepted their offers. No matter how much her life had changed in those last few months, old habits ran deep. She was a Northwest, and Northwests didn’t accept handouts.

The bike had been the only concession she had accepted. Apparently, it had belonged to Sherry’s niece. When Pacifica had told her she would pay back every penny the bicycle had cost, the woman had laughed.

“You’re sweet, honey,” Sherry had said, “but sometimes people do things for others just to be nice.”

Pacifica kept this thought in mind as she pedalled up the hill, gritting her teeth from the effort. Sherry had needed some medicine from the drug store; little Harper had caught a cold, and she was running a high fever. Tate was at work, while Soos had spent the whole night helping his girlfriend with some stupid paperwork. McGucket, for his part, had more or less barricaded himself in his office to direct the crab bots in their repairs of the portal. The old man was getting more and more frantic by the day, in a way that made him resemble his old, nuttier self.

And so, Pacifica had volunteered to run Sherry’s errands over the last week. She hated every second of it, but she kept her mouth shut, burying her grievances deep. Nothing was ever freely given, that much she knew since tender childhood.

Pacifica stopped in the middle of the hill, hoping to catch her breath. The sky was overcast, and it was unusually chilly for a day in early July. Goosebumps prickled the bare skin of Pacifica’s arms as the wind whipped at her.

“Stupid bike,” she muttered. “Stupid agents. Stupid portal.” After a while, she added, face scrunched up, “Stupid Dipper and stupid Mabel.” Oh, her life would be so much easier if she still hated those two! Why did she try to become friends with them again?

She was taken out of her thoughts by the sound of gravel being crunched under a tire. Pacifica whirled on her heel, seeing a car pulling over in the spot behind her.

Three people in black suits got out of the car. The driver was a familiar red-haired fellow. Pacifica froze like a deer in headlights as she met his gaze. It took her a precious few seconds to regain control of her limbs, but when she did, she bolted in the opposite direction, fumbling to take her cellphone out of her purse.

“Stop her!” the red-haired agent shouted.

Pacifica screamed as someone caught her arm, yanking her backward. The other agent snatched her phone from her hand, throwing it at the ground. Pacifica fought back with everything she had, scratching and kicking at her aggressors. She screamed again, at the top of her lungs, when she realized they were dragging her back to the car.

By the time she was inside, Pacifica was sure she’d given a black eye to one of her captors. The other was nursing a bite on her arm.

“You _bastards!_ ” Pacifica shrieked. “Let me go, _LET ME GO!_ ”

“ _Stop screaming!_ ” the red-haired agent—Agent Blauer, yes, that was his name—shouted back.

“I’ll scream all I want! You kidnapped me!”

Blauer glowered at Pacifica, teeth bared and jaw clenched tight. After a while, he passed a hand through his hair and forced out a smile. “Just… calm down, kid, okay? You’ve got nothing to fear from us. We’re just trying to see if you’re…” He inhaled deeply, and seemed to ponder his words for a moment. “Well, if you’re open to cooperation. We just want to work out a deal, you see?”

“A deal? _A DEAL?!_ ” Pacifica shrilled. “Are you out of your mind?!”

“You’re treading on thin ice, young lady,” Blauer said, waving a finger at her. “You and your little group of friends. Refusing to help in our investigation is one thing. Outright sabotage… that’s a whole another story.”

“Sabotage?” Pacifica said. “ _What_ sabotage?”

Blauer’s smile twitched for a moment. “Fischer, show her what I mean.”

The agent next to Pacifica shoved his phone into her face. Blurred pictures of a mechanical device appeared on the screen, only adding to her confusion. Other photographs showed what appeared to be a bunch of wires; they seemed to have been chewed on by animal teeth.

“What is that supposed to be?” Pacifica said, mimicking the tone her mother used to berate servants for the littlest of blunders.

“Someone’s messing with our equipment,” Blauer said, “and it’s slowing down our investigation. Do you know how much time—no, how much of the _taxpayers’ money_ we’ve lost so far?”

Pacifica leaned back into her seat, feigning nonchalance. “Why do you think I have anything to do with this? I’m not dumb enough to destroy your stupid equipment. And neither are the others.” She hoped they would not realize just how loudly her heart was beating. Someone was sabotaging their scanning device? Who? And why?

Again, Blauer's oily demeanour faltered. “I didn’t come all this way only for a bunch of small-town hicks to make a fool out of me. You’ll help us, you little brat, or else—”

“Help you?! You assaulted me! You broke my phone!” Pacifica shuddered in rage and disgust. “I’m going to sue, and I’ll sweat every penny I can from that stupid agency of yours!”

“Is that so?” Blauer said, sneering. “You must understand… it’s your word against ours.” He turned to look at the two agents. “Do you remember assaulting her, dear colleagues?”

“No,” said the first.

“Definitely not,” said the second.

“As for your phone,” Blauer said, “it fell out of your pocket when you ran after we so nicely asked if you could answer a few questions. You’re part of a group of youths who repeatedly antagonized us. Why would anyone take your side?”

“Repeatedly antagonized? We didn’t do anything, you creep!”

Blauer slammed his hands on the driving wheel, and Pacifica recoiled, heart skipping a beat. Terror shot through her, and suddenly it was the cold, disdainful gaze of another man she saw through Blauer’s eyes. Her father had rarely acted in such an uncouth manner—he had better means of controlling her—but he had never been exactly what you called a warm person.

“Don’t make me lose any more of my precious time, Ms. Northwest,” Agent Blauer growled. “No one else would have reason to tamper with our investigation. With each of your lies, you just keep just digging a deeper grave for you and your friends.”

“I’m a kid,” Pacifica said, gathering what strength she could to appear aloof. “You can’t exactly send me to prison.”

“You’re right on that front, true,” Blauer said. “You’re a minor, after all. But what about your companions?” He flashed her a smile. “Like that old man? Fiddleford McGucket? You live with him, right?”

“I’m renting a room at his place, yes,” Pacifica said, feeling apprehensive, all of a sudden. “My parents pay the rent.”

“He was a close collaborator of Stanford Pines, wasn’t he? That’s what our files said. Would _he_ know anything?”

Pacifica’s cheeks drained of blood. “Leave him out of this! He doesn’t know anything!”

“Struck a nerve, it seems.” There was a flash of vindication in his eyes. “Perhaps he helped with Dr. Pines’ secret project. He certainly would have the necessary expertise.” His expression suddenly grew serious. “You know we’ll find what’s under that sorry excuse for a house, eventually. It’s just a matter of time. Tell me what I want, and the old man gets off scot free.”

Pacifica suddenly wished she had a better poker face. Agent Blauer was smirking at her, clearly enjoying her dismay. What would happen if— _when_ —the agents did find the portal in the underground lab? In the absence of Dr. Pines, McGucket would probably serve as a handy scapegoat. For some reason, the thought twisted Pacifica’s stomach.

“So?” Blauer said. “Would you like to come with us and tell us what you know, Ms. Northwest? Do we have a deal?”

Pacifica looked at his smug face, hands tightening over her knees. The others would surely come to her aid—heck, Wendy and the girls would probably be all too happy to mount a rescue. Of course, Pacifica knew it wasn’t because they particularly cared about her as a person. No one was _that_ stupidly selfless.

That was another lesson she had learned early.

Pacifica crossed her arms over her chest. “Alright. I’m willing to hear you out.”

* * *

Dipper could feel a hint of _something_ as Kyan began the necessary chant for the ritual.

It wasn’t the first time he noticed this strange sensation. Whenever Kyan cast a spell, the air crackled, making the hair on the back of Dipper’s neck stand on end. Was it the natural energy Kyan kept talking about, the one that powered every spell on Mictlan? Dipper had no way of knowing if his theory was true.

He wished this stupid ritual took less time to cast. Even with his head propped up on a mountain of pillows, Dipper wasn’t exactly comfortable, lying on the cold stone floor of the library. His hands were sweaty, and his teeth wouldn’t stop chattering. In the distance, he could still hear people yelling and fighting. Next to him, Grunkle Ford continued to groan and toss in his magically induced sleep. Dipper forced himself to swallow; they would all be fine, he kept telling himself, Mabel and Kyan’s sister would get rid of those looters, and Dipper would find a way inside his uncle’s mind and—

With a gasp, Grunkle Ford suddenly sat up.

If he hadn’t been lying on the ground, Dipper would have jumped ten feet in the air. Kyan screamed, and immediately the strange energy that had been building up in the room dissipated. Only the faint odour of ozone remained.

“Grunkle Ford!” Dipper reached to hug him, only to stop when he saw his uncle wincing in response. “You’re back, oh my god, I’m so glad…”

Ford panted for a moment, eyes riveted on his shaking hands. “I’m… back?” He inspected his surroundings, nodding frantically. “Yes, yes, I remember now… the library, the ritual, you and your—” Ford cut off, face going white. “Your _sister!_ Where is she?!”

There was the telltale sound of Grunkle Ford’s laser gun going off in the distance, followed by… _laughter?_ Ford went to his feet on shaky legs, muttering a curse.

“Whoa!” Dipper said, helping him so he wouldn’t fall to the ground. “Take it easy, Grunkle Ford!”

“What’s happening? Where’s Mabel? Is there… is there a _fight_ going on?”

“You guys!” Kyan said, gesturing wildly. “I don’t mean to be rude, but we _really_ should go help the girls.”

“Help the girls?” Ford’s face grew even paler. “What do you mean?”

“You’re right, Kyan,” said Dipper. “C’mon, Grunkle Ford, we need to go! We’ll tell you everything on the way.”

Grunkle Ford seemed barely able to stand on his own two feet at first. Still, the closer they went to the source of the sounds, the stronger and faster he got. Soon enough, Dipper could barely keep up with his long strides.

Eventually, they approached the entrance hall. The noises of the battle had died down; somehow, that only made Dipper’s heart pound faster.

“ _BOW!_ ” boomed a familiar voice. “Bow to your queen, oh poor wretches, and I’ll think to spare your miserable lives!” Mabel punctuated this speech with a laugh that would have put any good cartoon villain to shame.

Dipper and the others irrupted into the entrance hall. Mabel was standing with her hands on her hips, jutting out her chin at five figures lying prone on the ground. The ruffians were in a sorry state; some were holding their heads, groaning, while others sported broken teeth and a vast array of bruises. Zuri poked at one of them with the butt of her energy spear, snorting as he moaned in pain.

“Mabel!” Grunkle Ford called out.

Mabel whirled toward them, face brightening into a smile. “GRUNKLE FORD!”

She rushed toward him to crush his midsection into a hug. Grunkle Ford let out something halfway between a chuckle and a wheeze.

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re alright!” Mabel said. “You just wouldn’t wake up!”

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” Ford told her. “Just… what on earth is going on? Who are these people?”

“Oh!” Mabel said brightly. “It’s those guys you scared off, Grunkle Ford! They decided to come back with more of their friends. One of them even did magic!”

“For all the good it did them in the end,” Zuri said with a smirk.

“Yeah!” said Mabel. “They were all, _arghhh_ , we’re angry and stuff, we’re here to kick your butts! And we were like, yeah, sure, just try, suckas! And I went all pew-pew-pew stunning these guys with your laser gun, and Zuri kept bonking their heads with her spear, and it was epic and—”

She was so caught up in her story that she didn’t see one of the ruffians struggling back to his feet. With a shaky hand, the man drew something in the air, making Dipper’s heart skip a beat.

His legs seemed to act of their own accord, and Dipper found himself in front of Mabel. His hand moved to draw a certain symbol in the air. A part of him was screaming that it was _stupid_ to try a half-baked theory he hadn’t even tested before.

Of course, that part of him was insignificant next to the part that made him shout, “ _NOT MY SISTER, YOU CREEP!_ ”

A ball of fire was surging toward Dipper. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding his hands in front of him and hoping for the best. Behind him, Mabel and Grunkle Ford were screaming his name.

Through closed eyelids, Dipper spied a hint of blue light flaring in front of him. He felt a bright, but brief heat on his open palms. Dipper cracked one eye open, seeing the ball of fire rushing back to the man who had cast the spell. The explosion sent him flying, and he hit a column. With a pained groan, he slid to the ground, head lolling.

“ _Holy moly!_ ” Mabel cried out. “Dipper! You… you…”

Dipper offered her a wavering grin. “H-Hey, it’s okay, no need to freak out, you know? Everything’s fi— _oof!_ ” She’d brought him into one of her bone-crushing hugs.

“Dipper, that was amazing!” Kyan exclaimed. “How did you do that?”

“I… I used that counterspell symbol we found in the library,” Dipper explained as Mabel finally let go of him. “When he was drawing his sigil, I felt something… like I could sense the energy he was using to cast his spell. I think… I think I used _that_ to send the spell back to him.”

Kyan’s eyes shone with admiration. “That’s brilliant, Dipper!”

Dipper scratched the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious. “Well, it’s not… I mean, I just…”

“It was brilliant, yes,” Ford said. “It also made me age ten years in the span of a few seconds.”

“Oops." Dipper winced. "Sorry, Great Uncle Ford.”

Ford smiled at him, putting a hand over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, my boy. I won’t scold you for wanting to protect your sister.”

Dipper looked up at him; Grunkle Ford sounded so sad, and so _tired_.

One of the goons gave a moan. Zuri kicked at him, prompting another grunt of pain from him. “So,” she said, “what do we do with those jokers?”

“Well, they had their lesson, I think,” Mabel said. “Right, boys?”

One of them looked blearily at her. “Uh… looting temples is bad?”

“And…?” Mabel prompted.

“Don’t mess with a Pines,” he muttered. “Whatever that is.”

Mabel made finger guns at him. “Ye- _ep!_ I’m glad to have contributed to your education! Now, shoo, shoo! Go and use that newfound knowledge to make the world a better place!”

The man let himself fall to the floor with another groan.

* * *

A few hours later, Ford and the children were sitting around a campfire in the temple courtyard.

Kyan had made them some tea, for which Ford was very grateful. The adrenaline that had previously coursed through his veins was gone, leaving him quite drained. The children watched him with careful eyes as he sipped from his cup. Their curiosity was almost palpable.

“So,” Dipper began, hands wrapped around his own cup, “what happened? Did you find anything?”

Ford frowned. “So neither of you followed me back there, did you?”

“Neither of us?” said Mabel. “What are you talking about, Grunkle Ford?”

“We didn’t get into your mind, if that’s what you’re asking,” said Dipper. “I was about to, but you woke up before Kyan could finish casting the spell.”

“Really?” Ford snorted out a laugh. “Either you kids became integral part of my conscience or the Axolotl just played therapist at my expense.”

The twins exchanged the same look of confusion.

“What’s that’s supposed to mean, Grunkle Ford?” Dipper said.

Meanwhile, Kyan sputtered, “T-The Axolotl? He actually exists? It’s not just stories?”

“Yes, he does exist,” Ford said. “Strange fellow, but nice, in his own way.”

“I can’t believe it!” Kyan said, shaking his head. “The Axolotl’s _real_. And I…” He wheezed, eyes going wide. “I actually _helped!_ I cast the ritual that brought Mr. Ford to him! Oh my stars, _Zuri_ —”

“Calm down, bro,” Zuri said, clearly stifling a laugh. “Don’t you hyperventilate on me.”

Kyan grew a deeper shade of blue, making Mabel giggle. She pointedly looked at her brother, who rolled his eyes.

“So, does that make you an Oracle or something?” Zuri asked Ford. “What did the Axolotl tell you?”

Twin pairs of brown eyes turned to Ford, and he felt his courage faltering.

 _(“They love him so much!”_ he remembered screaming at the Axolotl. _“How dare you do that to them?”)_

“Bill Cipher’s dead,” he blurted out. “The Axolotl scattered his consciousness across the multiverse when Stan defeated him.”

“Scattered his consciousness?” asked Dipper. “What does that even mean?”

“Wait,” said Kyan, “they can’t finish the ritual to bring him back, then.” Everyone turned to look at him, and he squirmed on his spot, clearly uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

“What do you mean?” Dipper said.

“They need their Master’s soul to put it inside your uncle’s mind,” Kyan explained. “But if what Mr. Ford said is true, then that soul doesn’t exist anymore. It’s been broken into millions, no _billions_ of pieces! One for every dimension in the multiverse!”

“Could they get hold of all those pieces?” Ford asked. “Could they put back together Bill Cipher’s soul?”

Kyan shook his head. “I-I don’t know... if they could, that ritual would need a _tremendous_ amount of magical energy…”

Ford sighed. The children seemed to ponder on his words, sipping their tea in silence. For his part, Ford only watched the flames dancing over the logs. He knew there was something else he needed to tell the children; was he strong enough to do it without crushing their hearts into fine dust?

“Did the Axolotl tell you anything about the Oracle?” Dipper asked, after a while. “Or about what we can do to save Grunkle Stan?”

“Yeah! This Axolotl guy must know how we could help him!”

They sounded so hopeful, and Ford felt a sob hitching in his throat. How could he ever tell the twins that the man they so desperately wanted to save had tormented and nearly murdered them in a past life?

“The Oracle might still be alive,” Ford said, choosing not to focus on Stan for now. He would tell the children the truth, yes, but not while Kyan and Zuri were within hearing distance. “I think they might be keeping her beneath the Temple of Dawn.”

Zuri became a shade paler, while her brother gasped.

“She’s been captive for over _ten_ years?” Kyan said. “That’s… that’s horrible!”

“Kyan, don’t you realize…” Zuri said hoarsely. “If they kept her alive, then maybe…”

Hope showed in Kyan’s eyes. “Then maybe Mom and Dad are still…”

Mabel jumped to her feet, striking a heroic pose. “It’s all set, then!” she said. “We’ll save Grunkle Stan and that Oracle lady _and_ your parents too! We’ll save _all of them!_ ”

Ford chuckled. “Seems like a plan. Well, I’m in.”

“Yeah,” Dipper said, a grim look settling on his face. “I’m all for taking the fight to them.”

“Good,” Ford, taking a sip and setting down his cup. “Beating up a bunch of crazy cultists is going to be a rather cathartic experience, I think.”

Both twins responded to this statement with cheers. Ford couldn’t hide his smile; Stan would have been proud of his little gremlins.

* * *

Stan felt liked he’d been walking for days .

The darkness stretched as far as his eyes—no his _eye_ , goddammit, that would take time to get used to—could see. Yet, Stan kept on advancing, punctuating each step with muttered curses. If there was one thing he’d perfected over sixty years of living, it was doing things out of stubbornness and spite.

Of course, things would have been easier if his travelling companion wasn’t so _goddamn annoying_.

 _I still can’t understand why you wanna go back the way you came!_ the glitchy, humanoid figure said in his strangely high-pitched voice. _It’s a long way back, you know!_

“Don’t care,” Stan said. “I gotta go back, so I’m going back. End of discussion.”

 _Okay!_ the guy said. He was almost more chipper than Soos, which wasn’t something Stan could have thought possible. _I’ll keep you company, then!_

“Great,” Stan said. “Jus’ what I wanted.”

_Glad to help!_

Stan groaned; even Soos would have detected the sarcasm dripping from those words.

They walked together for a while, Stan remaining silent while the glitchy guy chattered about inconsequential things. Eventually, Stan’s frustration reached its peak. He stopped, taking a loud breath through his nose. “So, like, are you gonna follow me everywhere or…?”

 _Well, someone needs to guide you down the right path when you’re finished with whatever you’re doing!_ The figure tilted his head. _You didn’t answer my question earlier._ _Why are you going back the way you came?_

“There’s somethin’ I need to do. You wouldn’t understand.” Stan frowned. “So, what should I call you? Considering how you intend to be a thorn in my side all the way, we’d better get on first-name basis, you know.”

_Oh, I have a lot of names. The first time we met, you called me Frills. The second time, you called me Pooch!_

Stan raised one eyebrow at the glitchy figure. He didn’t remember meeting the freak. Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time Stan’s shitty memory failed him, would it?

“Let’s go with Frills, then. Why do you wanna help me, anyway?”

_I like twins! I have a twin, you know!_

“You don’t say,” Stan said, voice dry as sandpaper.

 _Haven’t seen him in a while_ , Frills added sadly. _I miss him._

“Why? You got in a fight with ‘im?”

 _Oh no, it’s just… he has his own thing, and I have mine._ He sighed, which was strange, coming from someone who was so freaky looking. _It’s been so long. We’re almost strangers now._

Stan scoffed. “Why are you givin’ up without even tryin’? Jus’ reach out to him. Maybe he misses you too.”

Frills’ simple line of a mouth curled into a big smile. _You think so?_

“You won’t know until you try,” Stan said. “What’s stopping you?”

The glitchy figure seemed deep in thought. _What’s stopping me indeed_ , he said eventually.

They kept on walking, though now the silence hanging between them seemed less heavy, somehow. Finally, Stan spied something in the distance.

A gaping maw ripped the darkness apart. Colours dripped from the wound, so bright and garish it was almost painful to look at. The hair on the back of Stan’s neck stood on end. All of his instincts were screaming at him to _stay away_ from this thing.

Stan continued forward without hesitation.

 _You’re going back there?_ Frills asked. _It won’t be pleasant, you know. You could have saved yourself some heartache if you had just followed me back to—_

“Yeah, so, _shut it_ ,” Stan told him, gruffly. “I know what’s waiting for me back there, and I don’t care. And if you can’t accept that, then jus’ stay here and sulk.”

_Alright. Do what you think is right, Stanley Pines._

And Stan stepped into the hole.

He found a world on fire, with a sky as red as blood. Stan flailed in the air for a while, seeing the ground rapidly approaching. The air was knocked out of his lungs as he hit the dirt, one of his arms taking the brunt of the impact. Gritting his teeth from the pain, Stan stood up on wobbly feet. He was surrounded by the charred remains of a forest and the remnants of a house. _His_ house, from the happy family pictures hanging on the bits of wall still standing around him.

Not far away, a great structure loomed above the ruins. A throne made of writhing statues that screamed silently. A throne that brought back horrifying memories to the forefront of Stan’s mind.

A throne on which a grey-haired, one-eyed figure sat, features still blurred in shadow.

“Oh, _wow!_ ” Bill Cipher’s shrill voice boomed through the hellish landscape. He sauntered out of his seat, hands placed over his cane. He was still wearing Pa’s suit, but a tall, thin top hat now hovered crookedly above his head. “You came back. You’re actually _that_ dumb!”

Stan planted himself in front of the demon’s throne, boldly meeting that yellow eye. “What can I say?” he said, cracking his knuckles. “I’ve never been one for good decision-making.”


	20. Chapter 20

It was only eight o’ clock, yet Soos already wanted to go to sleep.

Melody had gone to bed. She’d spent the whole day—and part of the previous night—working on some paperwork that her mother—who ran her own law firm—had sent to help their cause. Soos had tried to assist her as much as he could, but all that legal lingo just made his head hurt. Sometimes, he felt bummed out that he was so useless with that kind of stuff. If he’d been _smart_ , like Dipper or Dr. Pines, maybe those government people wouldn’t have stolen the Shack from right under his nose. Melody kept saying he was being too hard on himself, but Soos wasn’t entirely convinced.

Soos stared at his laptop screen without much energy. Melody had said doing a few raids on World of Warcraft would cheer him up, but Soos was so tired he’d jumped three times off a cliff to his doom. He was about to shut the computer and call it a day when a notification popped on his screen.

 _heyy dude_ , Wendy was writing. _ur holding up in there?_

Soos sighed. _Im okay,_ he replied. _What bout u?_

_feeling shiiiity man. been wrackin my brain tyring to find a way toi get thos bstards out of the shack. But im fckin useless at this big brain bsiness._

_Ur telling me_ , Soos said. _Im not doin so much better, tbh._

There was a pause, then Wendy wrote, _im like, so angry all the time?? usually its good cause I jst go around bashin stuff an breakin heads._ Again, she was silent for a while. _Cept its not helping this time. Cause you know man those assholes jus rigged the system. hhell i might have made things wrse bby punchin that guy when I stole those barrels!!_

 _Don’t say that!_ Soos replied, trying to cheer her up. _Ur always so badass, its just so cool!_

_yeah? well snot helpin much here is it? I survived the gdammed apocalypse an now all I can do is sit on my ass and twiddle my thumbs._

Soos was about to write another reply when he heard a commotion in the distance. _Sorry, dood. Brb, sumthin’s happening._

He left his room in a hurry. Someone was shouting—McGucket?—but Soos could not make out the words. Baby Harper was crying, and Tate was speaking in a lower, but strained voice.

Soos came into the entrance hall of the manor. Sherry turned to face him, holding Harper in her arms. Her brown eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. Next to her were McGucket and Tate; the old man was tearing at what little hair he had left, while Tate was holding his hands up in a soothing manner. Pacifica’s little alien buddy was clawing at the door, making strangely squeaky noises.

“Calm down, Dad,” Tate said. “Freaking out won’t help—”

“It’s mah fault, _mah fault_ ,” McGucket interrupted him. “Another kid under mah care, another kid that might get _hurt_ ‘cause I was too busy obsessin’ with work—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Soos. “What’s happening? What kid?”

“It’s Pacifica,” Sherry said, between hiccups. “I asked her to go to the drugstore two hours ago, a-and... _a-and_ …”

“Found her bike on the way home,” Tate added, grimly. “It was just lying there. Doesn’t look like she crashed it.”

“I called those girlfriends of hers,” Sherry said, “but they said she’s not with them. Oh, what could have happened to her? I knew I shouldn’t have asked her to run errands, she’s too young!”

“It’s alright, Sherry,” Tate said, rubbing Harper’s back. The poor baby hadn’t stopped crying. “I called the police, they’ll find her.”

Meanwhile, McGucket was facing away from them, still muttering, “Failed again, couldn’t keep the kid safe, shouldn’t have thought Ah deserved a second—”

“Dad!” Tate said, grabbing his father by the shoulders. “It’s not your fault! You did nothing wrong.”

McGucket was startled into silence. For a moment, all they could hear was the llamasaur yelping and scratching at the door.

Soos’ head was swimming. “It just doesn’t make any sense. Who in town would ever want to hurt— _oh_.” He and McGucket exchanged the same look of horror.

“The _agents_ ,” the old man said, sounding unusually serious.

“No," Soos said, "they couldn't have...”

“I’ve gone to the Shack after filing a report with the police,” said Tate. “That lady there said she didn’t see her. They probably don’t have a thing to do with this.”

“They might be lying!” Soos exclaimed.

“They might,” McGucket said, tugging at his beard. “What are they playin’ at? Their fancy doodad shoulda found the underground lab by now. What would they gain by kidnappin’ the poor child?”

There was a high-pitched yelp near Soos. The llamasaur was tugging at his suit, eyes wide and pleading.

“Don’t worry, little guy,” Soos told him. “We’ll find her, you’ll see!”

“C’mon, Dad,” Tate said, leading him by the arm. “Go get some sleep. I’ll search the spot where I found her bike while you rest.”

“I’ll do it!” said Soos. “You and Sherry have Harper to take care of!”

“Tha’s true,” added McGucket. He patted his granddaughter’s head with a sad little smile. The kid was still bawling her eyes out. “Take the lil’ one to bed. Me an’ Soos, we’ll take care of things.”

“Okay,” Tate said. “But the moment you need anything, just gimme a call, alright?”

“Sure thing, Taters,” McGucket answered.

Tate escorted his wife and daughter out of the hall, leaving Soos and McGucket with the llamasaur. Soos scratched the critter’s woollen neck in an absentminded manner. The old man paced the room, still apparently lost in thought. Something buzzed in Soos’ pocket; Wendy had sent him a text message.

 _evrythin ok dude?_ she wrote. _whats goin on?_

 _pacifica’s missing_ , Soos texted back, biting his lower lip. _she went on for an errand and didnt come back. tate found her bike on the side of the road._

_what???! tf is going on??!_

_I don’t know,_ Soos replied. _I just hope no one hurt her._

There was silence from Wendy’s part, then she wrote, _u dont mean… those sumbitches agents coulda kidnapped pacifica??_

 _Its just a theory mind you_ , Soos replied. _I hpe shes okay._

_those assholes!! lying shitfucks!! avtin all high n mighty and pullin this crap on us??_

McGucket was reading over Soos’ shoulder, his thick eyebrows furrowed. Soos pondered over his next words, heart pounding.

 _u know,_ he wrote, eventually, _when u said we didnt need ur anger anymore…_

There was another pause, and Soos knew Wendy was grinning as she wrote, _yeah no, eff that noise! seems like sum anger’s alywas warranted!_

Despite the severity of the situation, Soos found himself snorting out a laugh. It earned himself another tug from the llamasaur. The little guy emitted a low whine, then a growl.

“Wait,” said Soos, finally realizing. “You can find her, can you?”

The llamasaur ran back to the door, clawing at it with his paws. McGucket and Soos exchanged the same look of triumph.

 _Wendy!_ Soos typed so fast he was amazed he didn’t butcher her name. _get the girls! i think i know how to find her!_

* * *

Ford and the children were swarmed with curious onlookers as they returned to the resistance hideout.

His translator could barely keep up with the rapid-fire exchanges that occured between Kyan and their welcoming committee. Ford understood well enough that the boy was telling everyone what had happened in the temple. He had no idea, however, why everyone was now speaking in awed whispers as he and the children made their way through the tunnels.

The crowd followed them to a great, hollowed space, where they found Yaspa leaning over a table, papers spilled out in front of her. Around her, people busied themselves, stockpiling supplies, gathering stolen weapons, running various errands. Despite this chaos, Yaspa took notice of Ford and the children immediately.

“You’re back,” she said, and a hint of a smile showed on her lips. “All of you… you’re alright!”

“Of course we are,” Zuri said, sounding dumbfounded. “Don’t tell me you were worried for us!”

Yaspa’s features regained their usual harshness. “Flippant, as always, child. From your tone, I expect things have gone well.”

“Yep!” Mabel said. “Grunkle Ford met that Axolotl guy and he said that Oracle lady might still be alive and—”

Her words prompted murmurs and gasps from the people inside the room. Even Yaspa’s face went slack.

“The Oracle?” she murmured. “She’s still alive?”

“I think she might be held beneath the Temple of Dawn,” Ford said. He was uneasy being the subject of such scrutiny. “I think I saw a lot of people being captive there, in fact. We could free them as well.”

Immediately, the crowd seemed seized with excitement and—it was a bit cheesy to admit _—hope_. Even Yaspa’s face lit up with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

She walked up to Ford, giving him a genuine grin. “Tell me everything.”

* * *

After hours of debriefing, Ford returned to his quarters, exhausted beyond belief. Despite this, he ignored the sweet calling of sleep. His brother was out there, stuck in the clutches of a mad cult. There was still so much Ford needed to do before they could attempt a rescue.

For a while, Ford sat alone on his cot, tinkering on a few projects. At first, he focused on making a spare gun out of scrap parts he’d scavenged from unusable energy weapons. The work kept his mind and hands occupied, which was a blessing. He’d left the Axolotl’s abode clutching a vow to his heart—that he would save Stan and prevent the return of Bill Cipher. Still, from the depths of his mind, an insidious little voice kept repeating, _but they’re one and the same, remember?_ Ford tried to muffle it, to no avail. Thirty years of paranoia and resentment were not so easily washed away, after all.

A few hours later, he was taken out of his thoughts by familiar footsteps. Dipper and Mabel were exchanging a few words in hushed tones as they entered their shared room. Ford’s niece actually quirked a brow as she spied her uncle sitting in bed with his tools.

“You should be sleeping, Mr. Old Man,” she said, loftily.

“I should say the same, Miss Young Lady,” Ford replied with matching gravitas.

She grinned. “Alright, alright, you got me. Whatcha working on?”

Ford twirled his new gun in his hands, earning himself ‘ _oooh_ ’s and ‘ _aaah_ ’s from his niece and nephew.

“I’ve been working on these as well,” Ford said, gesturing at his feet. “Rocket-powered boots. I wish I could have had more time to test them, but…”

“Oh em _gee!_ ” Mabel said, hopping excitedly on her spot, while her brother simply stared with his mouth hung open. Ford made a note to build him a pair when they would finally return home.

“Lastly, I’ve also managed to put the finishing touch on this.” Ford could barely stop himself from grinning as he handed a certain something over to his niece. “A little gift, just for you, my dear.”

Mabel seemed to be locked in a silent scream as she took the item from his hands. Finally, she let out, in a voice so high-pitched Ford was surprised he could hear it, “ _Is that, is that, is that, oh my god, oh my god, oh my GOD!_ ”

“A grappling hook, yes,” Ford said, somewhat sheepishly. “Made out of spare parts of those energy weapons we’ve recovered. I know it cannot ever replace the one Stanley gave you, but—”

Ford never had the time to finish his sentence, as Mabel leaped to embrace him. Behind her, Dipper was snorting.

“Thank you, thank you, _thank you!_ ” Mabel said, crushing Ford’s midsection a little more with every word.

“You’re welcome,” Ford wheezed in response.

Finally, Mabel let him go. “Look what we’ve been working on!” She showed him a few rectangular pieces of cloth. Various symbols were sown on the fabric. “Ta-dah! Kyan and Dipper drew the sigils, and I did the stitches! They’re super handy if you wanna cast a spell on the go!”

Ford inspected her work with a grin. As always, Mabel’s craftsmanship was unparalleled. “Amazing work, sweetheart! I know I can always count on you both.”

Mabel giggled as he patted her head. Dipper—much as Ford expected—mumbled something along the lines of, “S’no big deal, anyone could have done it…”

“Alright, you two,” Ford said. “Let’s get some rest. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

The atmosphere grew heavy, and Mabel’s smile dissipated. Her brother was sporting a serious, sombre expression no thirteen-year-old should ever have to wear.

“We’ll save him,” Mabel said. To her credit, her voice did not even waver. “We’ll beat those jerks, and we’ll save him. Just like we saved you last year.”

“If anyone can pull off such a miracle, it’s you two,” Ford told her.

“Having you storming the place all guns blazing won’t hurt either,” Dipper added.

Ford allowed himself a slight grin. “I can’t say I’m not looking forward to that part, at least just a little bit.” Soon, however, his smile was gone. The twins frowned, exchanging worried looks.

“What’s wrong, Grunkle Ford?” Mabel said. “If there’s anything, you know you can tell us.”

“I know,” Ford said, throat tightening. He looked at his hands, noting how they were slightly trembling.

“You know you can trust us,” her brother added.

Ford’s gaze snapped upward. _Trust_. Thirty years he’d spent refusing to put any faith in that concept. Yet those two had torn down his flawed rhetoric in a manner of _minutes_ last summer.

They had taken just one look at him before deciding that they trusted him. All because he was family—because they _loved_ him. They didn’t need any other reason.

“You’re right, my boy,” Ford said, taking in a deep breath. “I promised you something when we first arrived in this dimension, didn’t I? I should be honouring that promise.”

Dipper nodded slowly. “If you say so…”

“Remember when I said Bill had been reincarnated?”

Dipper and Mabel shared a look of confusion.

“Yeah,” said Mabel. “You said you didn’t know who he was now, though.”

“I’m sorry, kids,” Ford said. “I lied. I… I know who it is. It’s… someone we know…”

“When you say someone we know,” Mabel said, sounding uneasy, “I bet you don’t mean that jerk teacher we had in fifth grade who wouldn’t shut up about how bad I was at maths, right?”

“No,” Ford managed. “Definitely someone closer. Someone I—well, someone we all care about. And someone who cares about us. I’m telling the both of you because…” The words died in his throat, and Ford passed a hand through his hair. “Well, I’ve kept things from you before, and we all saw where it got us. You both deserve the truth.”

The twins exchanged another glance. For a moment, they were both silent. Was it Ford’s imagination or did he see a hint of realization in their eyes? Or maybe it was confusion. Maybe it was disbelief, maybe it was _horror_ , maybe it was—

“It’s okay, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel said, taking Ford out of his anxious loop. “You don’t have to tell us who it is if you don’t want to.”

Ford shook his head, bewildered. “But… I promised the two of you that I would—”

“ _He_ —I mean, that person probably doesn’t even remember being Bill,” Mabel said, giving a nervous laugh. “Right? It’s in the past, they didn’t choose to do all those horrible things Bill did…”

Dipper was paler than his sister. The boy looked like he was going to be sick, in fact. Still, he managed to summon enough composure to say, “Would you say that _he’s_ —I mean, they’re a bad person?”

“No,” Ford said, without hesitation.

Mabel put her hand over his. “Then, I trust him— _them_ , whoever they are. ‘Cause I trust _you_ , Grunkle Ford.”

“I…” Dipper clutched his journal tighter against his chest. “I think I’m gonna need some more time to think about… well, _all of that_. But that’s not important for now. Our priority should be to…” He stopped, nervously swallowing in an attempt to steady his voice. “To rescue Grunkle Stan. Yeah. Saving him comes first, figuring out the rest will come after.”

The boy’s words seemed half a lie he was telling himself. Ford smiled at him, touched by his courage and loyalty. Dipper wouldn’t even meet his eyes.

Eventually, Ford nodded. “Alright. Sleep well, you two.”

Mabel gave him another quick hug. “G’night, Grunkle Ford.”

“Yeah,” her brother added. “Good night. And, uh, thanks for being honest with us.”

Even after everyone was tucked in for the night, Ford could still hear the children speaking in hushed tones. There was something soothing about the sound of their voices. Ford remembered the time he’d asked Stan how the twins pulled their little miracles so effortlessly. His brother’s answer had been so simple, and yet so wise.

_“Easy, they’re kids. They don’t know any better.”_

They simply trusted in Stan because he was family—because they _loved_ him. They didn’t need any other reason.

Smiling to himself, Ford fell into a deep, pleasant slumber.

* * *

The demon Bill Cipher loomed over a world of ruins and flame, laughing at the opponent that had come forward to challenge him.

“ _Well, well, well,_ ” Bill said, from the comfort of his twisted throne. “You’re stupider than I thought, ‘ _Stanley Pines_ ’ _!_ ”

The way Bill Cipher had said Stan’s name sent chills down his spine. It was the tone Stan had used to spew shit about the attractions of the Mystery Shack. A tone full of deceit and derision.

To Bill Cipher, Stanley Pines was as fake and cheap as the crap he once sold to gullible tourists.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stan said, feigning indifference, “now that we’ve established that, can we skip to the part where I kick your lousy ass? Ain’t got all day, y’know.”

“You’ve just realized that?” Bill said with a leer. “’Cause it’s true. That worshipper of mine, whatsherface, she’s hard at work trying to bring me back. Which means she’s hard at work _killin’_ you right now.”

“You don’t know her name?” Stan said.

“Of course I don’t!” Bill said, laughing. “What, like I’m s’posed to remember the name of all the idiots worshipping me?”

It was stupid to feel infuriated on the behalf of someone _who’d gouged out your damn eye_ , but Stan found himself gritting his teeth.

“Oh, wait, I remember now!” Bill said. “It’s good ol’ Green Gem, isn’t it? She was a boring one, I tell ya. Right until I forced her to claw her eye out. Then, she was more fun! Even Sixer wouldn’t let me do that. He woke up before I managed to do the deed, which is a shame if you ask me.”

Stan took a step back, stomach churning. “Shut up. _Shut the hell up_.”

“Aw, man,” Bill said. “You’re so thin-skinned, Mackerel. Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I tried to kill your nephew and make it look like he’d committed suicide—”

“ _SHUT UP!_ ” Stan roared.

Bill blew a raspberry. “Meh. Like I said, you’re too sensitive.”

Stan jabbed a finger at him. His fury was so great he could barely manage to form words. “ _Get the fuck over here. Now_.”

Immediately, Bill Cipher erupted into mad laughter. “Well, then!” he said, white fissuring the darkness of his face in an eerie grin. “Since you’ve asked so nicely…”

He jumped out of his seat, holding one hand over his cane. Before Stan could do anything, Bill snapped his fingers, and everything turned dark. A trumpeting noise rang in the air, and Stan put his hands over his ears, gritting his teeth. Flashing neon lights appeared above Bill Cipher’s throne, forming the demon’s name in a gaudy display. A few spotlights illuminated Stan; he realized he was now standing the middle of a gigantic boxing ring. Bleachers surrounded the ring, filled with figures screaming and jeering. Their dark, formless features seemed a crude mirror of Bill’s current face.

There was a loud snapping noise, and another spotlight was directed at the top of Bill’s throne. The demon was holding a pose, one hand placed over the rim of his hat, the other over his cane.

"Seriously?” Stan said, deadpan. “You know something is tacky when _Stan Pines_ says it so. Maybe you shoulda made it less of a monument to your ego, pal.”

The demon did not answer, only snapping his fingers again as he struck another pose. Music—much like the kind you’d find at one of those stupid clubs kids liked nowadays—blared out of nowhere. Bill Cipher began to make his descent, timing each of his step to the beat.

“Oh, come _on_.” Stan groaned, looking heavenward. “I’m dead, right? I’m dead, and this is hell.”

 _“What do you say, folks?”_ Bill exclaimed, to the joy of the crowd. _“Who d’you think will win—the superior, original version, or the shoddy knockoff?”_

Thousands of eerily distorted voices shrieked, “ _BILL! BILL! BILL!_ ”

Bill’s head tilted at an odd angle as he set his sight on Stan. “Hear that, Mackerel? Even the figments of your mind are betting on me. Ya sure you even want to bother?”

Stan refused to answer. Instead, he dropped into a boxer’s stance, hoping the bastard would get the message.

“ _Woof_ ,” Bill said, making a big show of rolling his only eye. “No sense of showmanship, am I right, guys?” The crowd erupted into laughter. “If it’s a fight you want, _Stanley Pines_ , then who am I to deny your wish? D’you want to see him get his ass handed over to him, people?!”

The shadowed figures roared in response, some screaming Bill Cipher’s name, others shouting for Stan’s demise. Stan winced; he knew perfectly well that these wazoos weren’t real, but still…

Bill stopped, right in the middle of the steps leading to his throne. “Alright!” he crowed, spreading his arms wide. “It’s _SHOWTIME!_ ”

“What?” said Stan. “What are ya talkin’ ab—”

Before he could finish, something swooped at him, knocking the air out of his lungs. Stan was thrown halfway across the ring, and he hit the ropes with a wheeze. Eyesight blurred by pain, he spied four gigantic figures facing him: a four-legged purple monster with no face, a pink one-eyed demoness, a grey-skinned, baby-faced freak and a long-limbed green goblin with protruding teeth.

Stan grimaced, tasting blood on his tongue. “You… you yellow-bellied _bastard!_ Gettin’ others to fight your fights…”

“What can I say?” Bill said, cackling. “I thought it’d be more fun that way!”

The crowd went wild as the monsters charged at Stan. He raised his arms in an attempt at a block, only to have the pink demoness grabbing him by the wrists, long nails digging into his skin. Her face split into a freakish grin, and she threw Stan aside as if he weighed nothing.

He fell into the awaiting arms of the green freak, who clamped them around Stan’s torso. With a roar, the grey baby-shaped monstrosity aimed a jab at Stan’s stomach.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Stan exclaimed, uselessly kicking at the creature.

He let out a triumphant ‘ _hah!_ ’ as he felt the pudgy nose breaking under the sole of his boot. Not one to squander such an opportunity, Stan headbutted the monster holding him to slip out of his grasp.

The moment he regained his footing, Stan took a swing at the closest opponent. The grey-skinned freak showed surprising agility, evading Stan’s jab. Stan was not so lucky, and the world went white as the monster’s fist collided with his stomach. Stan stumbled back, out of breath, barely able to stay on his feet. Before he could move, the purple monster slammed into him, sending him flying again.

For a moment, all he was aware was the sound of their laughter and the demented cheers of the audience. Stan pushed himself off the floor with trembling arms. Sweat and blood pooled under him. In the distance, Bill seemed to be smirking. He was lounging in his throne like it was a fancy sofa. Was that popcorn he was eating?

 _It’s weird_ , said a familiar voice next to Stan, and his gaze snapped upward. A freakin’ lizard was floating around his head. It was bright-ass _pink_. What the everlasting hell? _I thought you’d be putting more of a fight…_

Stan blinked. “Frills? S’that you? What’s with the sudden makeover?”

_We’re in the mindscape! Why are you acting like you’re limited by what your meatsack can do?_

Stan opened his mouth, then closed it with a noticeable ‘pop!’

“Huh,” he said. “The mindscape.” He almost laughed. “ _My_ mindscape. Shit, you’re right!”

 _Of course I am_ , Frills said as Stan stood up on wobbly legs. _It’s just strange that I need to remind you…_

Stan spat on the floor, offering his opponents a bloody grin. “Hey, _freaks!_ You wanted a show? How ‘bout we do things my way for once? I promise it’ll be entertaining!”

As if on cue, the atrocious music stopped, replaced by heavy guitar riffs and a bangin’ drumline. Stan let out a bark of laughter. Good ol’ 80s-style hard rock. The kind that drove Ford utterly nuts whenever they were stuck together in the car. Stan kept telling him, “Well, I’m the one drivin’, I get to choose the soundtrack, numbnut.”

It was the same here, really. Stan ought to be the one drivin’ that useless sack of bones after all.

The crowd responded with more boos and death threats, but Stan was past caring. When Bill’s Henchmaniacs rushed at him, all teeth and claws, he stood his ground, simply aiming his index finger at the purple monstrosity.

“ _Psh-ew!_ ” he said, in his best impression of Ford’s laser gun.

And the monster exploded into confetti. Mabel would have been _delighted_.

The other three freaks skidded to a halt, their faces showing varying shades of horror. Stan bolted toward them with a greater speed than his old man legs could have ever allowed, aiming a punch at Greenie’s ugly mug. His fist connected with the creature’s jaw with a satisfying crunch; this time, the monster blew into hundreds, no, _thousands_ of dollar bills. Stan cackled like a little kid who’d just broken in a candy store.

Keeping momentum, Stan swung on his heel, raising one leg in the air. He kicked the pink demoness right in the teeth, in a perfect recreation of a move he’d seen in one of the martial arts movies Soos loved so much. The creature screeched, popping into thousands of soapy bubbles.

There was only one enemy remaining. The ugly baby tried to back away from Stan, but the latter only snapped his fingers, making an axe appear in his hand. The monster squealed and scampered. In a throw that would have made Wendy green with envy, Stan sent the axe right into the creature’s skull. Instead of blood, coins poured out. Soon the last of Bill’s Henchmaniacs was nothing but a pile of hard cold cash lying on the ground.

For a while, there was only silence as the music sputtered and stopped. Then, _predictably_ , came the chorus of jeers and bellows. Some of the freaks in the audience even threw cans and rotten fruits in Stan’s direction.

“Yeah, you jerkwads!” Stan shouted, making rude hand gestures at them. “Boo all you want! I can do this all night! _Woo!_ ”

With the most madcap grin he could muster, Stan turned to face Bill. The demon was now sitting properly in his seat, single eye fixed on Stan. There were no tantrums, no petulant scowls, only… pure, utter _boredom_.

“Oh, _gee_ , folks,” Bill commented, inspecting his nails. “Is there anything more boring than an invisible hero or what? Where’s the drama if there’s no struggle? If there’s no _anguish?_ ”

“If there’s no what now?” Stan muttered, suddenly apprehensive.

His heart leaped into his throat when five figures formed out of condensing mist in front of him. Out of instinct, Stan dropped into a boxing stance, only to feel the fight going out of his body as he recognized his new opponents.

Their colours were more muted than in reality, and their eyes flared like the headlights of a car, giving them an eerie, inhuman look. There was a tall, chubby young man who was trying to shield two kids. The brown-haired children seemed to be holding on to each other for support. Another youth—a red-haired girl with a fierce scowl—stood in front of them, twirling an axe in her hands. The fifth figure was a barrel-chested man in a long coat. Stan could only stare back, helplessly, as the man fixed on him eyes burning with hatred.

Ford’s doppelganger aimed his gun at Stan and snarled, “ _Get away from these children, demon!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just so you guys know, I totally imagined Bill ~dramatically~ walking down the stairs to this [bop](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zplIPSgiohA).


	21. Chapter 21

Despite the severity of her predicament, Pacifica refused to let her fear show.

Her composure had been somewhat shaken when she’d realized the agents’ car wasn’t heading toward the Mystery Shack. Pacifica had tensed in her seat, prompting a smirk from Agent Blauer.

“Where are we going?” she had managed. “I thought you guys wanted to ask me some questions.”

“That’s what we’re going to do, yes,” Blauer had answered. “Simply put, well, my colleague Dryer and I had a… _disagreement_ , you could say. We’ll proceed with your interrogation… elsewhere.”

Pacifica had dug her nails into the car seat to keep herself from trembling. She’d survived the freakin’ _Apocalypse_ , she could surely deal with a few obnoxious ruffians… _right?_

“Fine,” she had replied. “I don’t care either way.”

They drove into the forest outside of town, only to arrive at a secluded motel. The parking lot was filled with black cars with tinted windows. Pacifica's stomach lurched; were there no one here save for these governmental goons?

Several men and women in black suits kept watch as Pacifica was escorted out of the car. Blauer and her other two captors brought her to an empty room.

“Where’s everyone else?” she asked Blauer. “The clients, the owner? Did you…?”

“Requisition the whole place? Of course we did. It’s not my first rodeo, kid. You and your little friends aren’t the first ones to get in the way of doing our duty.”

“Duty?” Pacifica scoffed. “How are you helping anyone right now?”

“You’d be surprised,” Blauer said. “I’ve seen my fair share of weird crap in my line of work. And my fair share of idiots. Do you know what happens you combine those two things? Precious time being wasted. Propriety damage. Innocent people being hurt or even _killed_.”

“You’ve got your priorities in order, I see,” Pacifica said, frowning.

A muscle jumped by the corner of Blauer’s mouth. Still, he found enough composure to feign a smile. “Get some rest, young lady. You’ll answer all of our questions tomorrow, won’t you?”

Pacifica bit down her lip. “Alright. I’ll tell you what I know. Now, get out. I don’t want you creep watching me sleep.”

“Good. Sleep tight, Ms. Northwest.”

To her great relief, Blauer and the other man exited the room, leaving Pacifica with the female agent to guard her. The woman sat into a sofa and inspected her phone as Pacifica slid under the bedcovers. She hid her face in her pillow and allowed herself a few tears, before finally drifting to sleep.

* * *

Pacifica was startled awake a few hours later by the sound of someone slamming a door.

She sprang from her bed, heart pounding. The agent keeping watch abruptly sat straight in her sofa; clearly, she’d dozed off as well. Standing in front of the door was Blauer. He seemed out of breath—and out of his mind with _anger_. Pacifica noticed belatedly that other noises came from outside the room. Were people shouting?

“S-Sir?” the agent lady said, blinking at Blauer. “What’s going on?”

“What are you doing?!” Blauer barked at her. “Don’t just sit there, come and help me!”

The woman scrambled outside, into the parking lot, while Pacifica jumped out of bed. Before she could reach the door, Blauer whirled toward her, pointing an accusing finger at her face.

“Don’t test my patience, young lady!” he growled. “I’m not in the mood to—”

Pacifica didn’t let him finish his sentence. She pushed at him and rushed out of the door, escaping his grasping hands. Chaos seemed to rage in the parking lot; the agents were in a panic, fighting against one or several unseen enemies. Pacifica didn’t care to understand what was happening; she only continued to run, heading for the woods behind the motel.

It wasn’t exactly one of her best ideas. She could barely see the tip of her nose in this darkness, and the nightly chill raised goosebumps on her bare arms. Still, she did not stop; Blauer was in hot pursuit, screaming invectives at the top of his lungs.

Soon enough, Pacifica was tripping over a root. Before she could catch her breath and get up, someone grabbed her arm, dragging her to her feet. Pacifica could see Blauer’s face twisting hatefully in the glare of his flashlight.

“You little brat!” he snarled. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on _right now!_ ”

“I don’t know what’s happening!” Pacifica cried, kicking at him. “Let me go! You’re _hurting_ me!”

“Don’t you dare lie to me, you little— _argh!_ ” Blauer suddenly dropped Pacifica. In the dim lighting, she saw something hanging from his arm. She could also hear a low, angry growl coming from the creature fastened to Blauer’s limb. “What the hell?! _Get it off me, get it off!_ ”

Pacifica grabbed the flashlight, gasping when she finally realized what—or rather, _who_ —it was. “Llama?!” she cried. “What… what are you doing here?!”

In a violent motion, Blauer managed to rip the creature’s jaw from his arm. He flung the llamasaur aside with a scream of rage; poor Llama hit a tree trunk, dropping to the ground with a high-pitched wail.

“No!” Pacifica shrieked, rushing to her pet’s side. “You monster, how dare you, _how dare you!_ ”

“What is that _thing?!_ ” Blauer screamed. “That… that’s not normal! _None of you freaks are!_ What is wrong with this _stupid_ town?!”

He advanced toward Pacifica, hand raised to strike. She shielded the llamasaur with her body, paralyzed with fright.

And then Pacifica heard a strange noise—the sound of a wood being splintered, accompanied by a discordant _twang_. Blauer’s hateful grimace slackened, and he fell forward, face in the mud. Behind him, holding the remains of a banjo, was McGucket.

“Oh, Lord,” he said, panting like he’d been running a marathon. “We got here in time…”

“Pacifica!” Soos rushed from behind the old man, embracing the girl. The latter simply stared over his shoulder, stiffening at the touch. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m not the one you should be worried about!” Pacifica replied, pushing him away to check on the llamasaur. The creature gave an appreciative purr, nuzzling at her hand. “Are you okay, sweetie? That jerk didn’t hurt you too bad, did he?” He licked her hand, and she gave a sigh of relief as she buried her face into his woollen neck. “Oh, thank goodness!”

“No!” Soos brought both of his hands over his mouth, before glaring at Agent Blauer, still lying insensate in the mud. He gave the agent’s body a kick. “That’s for stealing my house, dude! And for kidnapping Pacifica and hurting the llamasaur!”

McGucket held out his hand toward Pacifica. “Ya sure yer alright, kiddo? We were all so worried…”

“What?” Pacifica scoffed. “Everyone, being worried about me? What kind of nonsense is that?”

“Why wouldn’t we be worried? They coulda hurt ya.” McGucket looked at the ground, suddenly contrite. “An’ it woulda be mah fault.”

“ _Your_ fault?” He would have told Pacifica the moon was made of cheese, and she wouldn’t been as surprised. “Why?”

“’Cause yer mah responsibility, aren’tcha? Ya live under mah roof, ya eat mah food. Ah gotta provide for you.”

“You provide for me because my parents pay rent,” Pacifica said. “You don’t owe me anything.”

McGucket blinked. “They’re supposed ta pay me?”

“My parents aren’t giving you money?” Pacifica said, almost at the same time. “But then… who’s paying for my room and board?”

“Why, no one!” said McGucket.

“But that means… you’re paying for my food! A-And you’re letting me stay at your house for free!”

McGucket exchanged a glance with Soos. The handyman only shrugged, looking as clueless as the old man.

“Well, of course!” said McGucket. “Yer a growing girl, ya need to be fed, ain’tcha? Ah wouldn’t just kick ya out in the streets, yannow? Kids oughta have grown-ups to provide fer ‘em ‘til they’re ready to strike on their own. Tha’s jus’ how things should be.”

Pacifica choked out a sob. She smothered the emotion bubbling in her chest before it could show. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

McGucket smiled. “Why not? Someone needed to do it, an’ Ah guess it was me.”

This time, Pacifica could not stop her body from shaking. She turned her face away so he would not see her crying. When all of this was over, she would have a long conversation with her parents. One that would include child service and possibly a lawyer or two.

“Aw, dudes,” Soos said, wiping a tear off his eye. “It's cute seeing the two of you together, but shouldn’t we get going? The others might need our help.”

“The others?” Pacifica said.

As if on cue, she heard a loud _boom_ , followed the screech of twisted metal. Both Soos and McGucket startled, before sharing a sheepish look. Pacifica quirked a brow at them.

“What was _that?_ ” she said.

McGucket laughed nervously. “Dunno! Guess young Soosie is right. We really should checkin’ on the girls, right?”

Pacifica heard a few more screams. There were lights flashing from the direction of the motel.

“From the looks of it, it seems we should be worrying about the agents, and not Wendy and the others,” Pacifica said dryly.

McGucket’s grin grew a little feral. “Oh, fer _sure!_ ”

* * *

The plaza in front of the temple was packed with the faithful of the Eye of Dawn.

Ford and the twins made their way through the crowd with great difficulty, wearing hooded robes to be “ _sneaky sneaks_ ,” in Mabel’s eloquent words. People kept whispering among themselves, uneasily watching the grey-robed men guarding the stage. There were more of them than the last time Ford had been here.

“D’you think that Tappaz guy is going to speak soon?” Mabel whispered to Ford.

“That’s what it looks like,” Ford replied.

She grinned. “Then we gotta get you up there real quick so you can steal his thunder!”

“Is this really a good idea?” Dipper said. “Maybe we should find another way into the temple…”

“Are you doubting my flawless, brilliant plan, brobro?” Mabel said, elbowing her brother in the ribs.

“I don’t know, Mabel.” Dipper looked up at Ford. “Do you feel up to it, Grunkle Ford?“

“No,” Ford answered, truthfully, “but we don’t have much choice, do we? I’m willing to do what it takes to save Stanley.”

Mabel pushed him forward. “Alright! Break a leg out there!”

Ford’s heart pounded as he began to climb the steps leading to the stage. He scanned the crowd, first finding Zuri and her brother standing not far from the twins, then the towering form of Yaspa. She gave him a curt nod; everything was in place, then. Ford could set in motion the first part of their plan.

The guards faced Ford as he made his way up. “You can’t be here,” said the one closest to him. Behind him, his two colleagues raised their spears in a threatening manner, prompting a series of worried whispers from the crowd.

Ford held up his hands. “Oh, I have every right to be standing on this stage. You see, I—” He fought to keep himself from grimacing. _Well, here goes…_

He tossed aside his cloak, as dramatically as he could. Mabel had been adamant on this point. “Channel some of Grunkle Stan’s spirit!” she had told him. “I know you can do it! I believe in you!”

Ford struck a pose, making sure the crowd got a good look at his current outfit—the multicoloured horror the Eye of Dawn had once forced him to wear. “— _I am_ _the hero destined to bring about the coming of dawn!_ ”

His proclamation was followed by exclamations of surprise from the crowd. The guards exchanged what was probably a look of confusion. It was hard to tell with those stupid masks.

“That’s…” said the one next to Ford. “But I wasn’t told…” He turned to his fellow guardsmen. “That’s not something Lord Tappaz authorized!”

“Oh, just think of me as a—” Ford winced; he wished he had just one tenth of his brother’s ability to spew utter bullshit right now, “—a surprise guest speaker?”

In spite of their masks, Ford could feel the guards’ suspicion. He hadn’t fooled them, not for one bit. Still, they couldn’t throw him off the stage, not while the crowd was watching with bated breath. Ford opened his mouth to continue.

And found himself unable to speak.

It wasn’t as if he’d never given a speech in front of a large audience before. A few shouting matches in college had eroded the last bit of his childhood shyness, after all. Yet, he’d never been a one to spin yarns for his own benefit. That was all _Stan’s_ game. Ford had the charisma of a mudskipper.

The silence that swept across the crowd didn’t help. Out the corner of his eye, he could see the closest of the grey-robed guards making his approach. Ford had to come up with something or else—

Someone grabbed Ford’s hand, startling him. “Yes!” Mabel was saying beside him. “He’s the one you’ve all been waiting for! Look at him, clad in the garb of the fabled hero! Isn’t he _dashing?_ ”

The audience responded with confused murmurs (one young voice even exclaimed, “But he’s _old!_ ”). Mabel was undeterred by their less than enthusiastic reception, however. “Yes, yes, it’s true! He’s here to defeat a great evil and save the day!”

This time, there were gasps aplenty. “What great evil?” someone shouted, while another cried, “Save the _what?_ ”

Mabel looked up at Ford, slightly tugging at his hand. “But to accomplish his mission…”

Ford offered her a decisive nod. “But to accomplish my mission, I need your help!” he exclaimed. “It’s urgent that I get to the Temple of Dawn. Please, I would like for you good people to—”

“ _Get off this stage this instant, you phony!_ ” a familiar voice screeched.

A certain yellow-robed man had climbed up the stage, surrounded by more guards. Tappaz jabbed an accusatory finger toward Ford and Mabel.

“Arrest this man!” he ordered. “He’s not what he says he is! We can’t let him get to the Temple of Dawn!”

There were more confused mutters from the audience. “What is he, then?” a man yelled.

“You told us he would be our saviour!” someone else added. “You showed us his picture and everything!”

“He’s not our saviour!” Tappaz bellowed. “Far from it! Stop him _, stop him right now!_ ”

Mabel peered up at Ford. “Grunkle Ford—”

“Get to safety,” Ford told her. “I’ll handle this, don’t worry, my dear.”

The moment she rushed off the stage, the guards charged at Ford, ready to skewer him with their spears. People screamed in the audience. Ford stood his ground, reaching for something in his discarded robe. A mere second before the first energy spear made a kebab out of him, Ford leaped in the air.

And the crowd went _wild_.

“He’s _flying!_ ” someone exclaimed.

“That’s not magic! What's going on?!”

“Mom, _Mom!_ How does he do that?!”

Ford grinned; thousands of faces were watching him in wonder and excitement. It was idiotic, yes, but that made him giddy like a little boy.

“ _Ro-cket boots, ro-cket boots!_ ” Ford could hear Mabel chanting in the distance. He found her face in the crowd, and addressed her a salute. She cheered in response, prompting the people around her to do the same.

Ford landed on the stage in a crouching position, twin guns at the ready. The crowd’s applause grew even louder. Around him, the grey-robed guardsmen hesitated; one of them was even _shaking_.

“What are you waiting for?!” Tappaz shrieked. “Get him!”

One guard did as Tappaz ordered, running toward Ford. With a smirk, Ford surged to the side, firing two stunning charges. One hit his attacker right in the chest, while the other knocked a second grey-robed man off his feet. A third guardsman lunged at Ford, somewhat desperately. Ford twisted on his spot, kicking at him with a rocket-powered boot. The crowd erupted into cheers as the man flew off the stage, arms flailing.

“ _You incompetents!_ ” Tappaz screamed at the two remaining guards. “He’s just _one_ man! What are you doing?!”

In response, one of the guardsmen yelped and dropped his weapon, scampering away from Ford. His comrade, however, stood his ground. Ford lowered his guns, cocking his head and raising his eyebrows. The man fell for Ford’s taunt instantly, charging at him with a bellow.

Ford simply lifted himself from the ground, shrugging for maximum cockiness. The man skidded off the stage, his angry yell turning into a panicked scream. Ford made a slow descent back to the stage, punctuating the end of his flight with a curtsey. Laughter flared from the audience.

Only Tappaz remained. By now, the yellow-robed priest had been reduced to incoherent screams. With harsh, jerky motions, he drew a sigil in the air, foam nearly forming at his mouth. Several people gasped as they realized what the man was planning. More screamed when a ball of flame erupted from his hands. 

In a fluid, nonchalant manner, Ford threw a piece of cloth in the air. A blue symbol flared in front of him, and the fireball bounced off an invisible shield, abruptly changing course.

Or, more precisely, _going back to its original owner_.

“ _Argh!_ ” Tappaz flung himself to the ground in an attempt to keep his robes from catching fire. It didn’t stop the flames from spreading elsewhere, however. “ _My hair, my hair!_ ” When the man finally stumbled back to his feet, half of his precious mane was charred black or missing.

“I’m sorry,” Ford said to him, genially. “Are you willing to cooperate, now? I really don’t want to hurt anyone else…”

Tappaz puffed out his cheeks, raising an accusatory finger toward Ford. A long-drawn sound, much like the noise of a deflating balloon, escaped his closed mouth.

Then, he turned tail and fled.

A sizable silence hung over the crowd. Someone coughed. Dipper and Mabel climbed up the stage, taking place beside Ford. Eventually, he was met with smiles—unsure at first, then full of hope and wonder. Ford’s own grin grew bigger, and—

_FWOOOSH!_

Mabel cried out, squeezing her uncle’s hand for support. Ford himself had nearly fallen off his feet from the shockwave coming from behind. He felt the hair on his arms standing on end. Dipper held onto his hat as if something was pulling it into the sky.

Ford whirled on his feet, and his heart leaped into his throat. A pillar of blue light came from the Temple of Dawn, piercing the twilight and dispelling the purple gloom.

“Is that the light of the sun?” a woman shouted in delight.

“The sun, the sun!” others responded.

“It’s all true! This man brought the dawn!”

“He’s really our prophesized saviour!”

The blood has drained from Dipper’s face. “Oh boy. This doesn’t look good _._ Grunkle Ford, what’s going on?”

“The portal,” Ford whispered. “They must have activated it.”

“Why?” Dipper said, half-panicked. “They’ve already got Grunkle Stan, haven’t they? Why would they need the portal?”

Ford grimaced. “We need to get going. _Now_.”

“Alright, everyone!” Mabel exclaimed, punching in the air. “Let’s save Grunkle Ford’s twin!”

“What’s a twin?” someone called out.

“Isn’t it some kind of monster?” another added.

“No, no, no!” said Mabel. “Twins are magical, _mystical_ beings beloved by the Lord of Twilight. My Grunkle Ford has a twin, see? That’s why he’s _special_.”

Ford quirked a brow at his niece. She only fluttered her lashes innocently.

“The Lord of Twilight?” an old woman said. “He’s still around?”

“They do say he’s is the god of twins, isn’t he? Always wondered what it meant...”

“So, he’s the chosen of the Lord of Dawn _and_ the Lord of Twilight?”

Ford cleared his throat, hoping they would not see him blushing. “Ah, well, in truth, I am…” He stopped and gave a sigh. “In truth, I’m no one’s chosen. I’m not the man who will change the world. I’m just… a man who wants to save someone I care about. And to do that, I need your help. _Please_.”

“He’s right,” a new voice said. Yaspa had climbed to the stage as well, followed by Kyan and Zuri. “His twin is not the only one who is a captive of the Eye of Dawn. They’ve also taken my wife and those children’s parents, and many others. Including our fair Oracle, Jheselbraum.” Her words stunned the people into silence. Hundreds of eyes filled with horror were fixed on her as she continued, “A number of you might know someone who’s gone missing. They might have fallen prey to the Eye of Dawn. You might have lost hope of ever finding those loved ones again. I know I did! But now…” She offered Ford a genuine smile. “Well, I’m ready to trust in the future again.”

“I know we ask a lot of you,” Ford added. “I know it’s hard to accept that someone has been taking advantage of your devotion.” He swallowed nervously. “I could probably write a book about the subject. So, please. Just this once, _trust us_.”

An eternity seemed to pass. Mabel was squeezing Ford’s hand so hard his knuckles were probably going white. Dipper hopped from foot to foot, biting down his lower lip.

“Why didn’t you just say so?” a woman eventually shouted.

“Yeah!” a man added. “We’ll help you save your twin! Whatever a twin is, I mean!”

“I knew there was something weird going on with those guys! Let’s get those phonies!”

“Let’s rescue the Oracle!”

Something resembling hope bubbled in Ford’s chest. Mabel bounced up and down, giggling all the while. Dipper looked like he was ready to collapse in relief.

“You did it, Grunkle Ford!” Mabel said.

“ _I_ did it?” he said, amused. “I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere if not for your flawless plan and top-notch persuasion skills. You’re on your way to become a more dangerous version of your uncle Stan. I say more dangerous because you’re actually charming, while Stan, well…”

“Wouldn’t know charming even if it hit him in the face with a stick?” Mabel completed with a disarming smile.

“Exactly. You’ve weaponized your cuteness.”

“Tee-hee!” Mabel said, poking at both cheeks with her fingers. “My nefarious strategy has been exposed!” She poked him in the ribs. “And admit it, the outfit helped. The power of fashion compelled them to believe you!”

Ford scrunched up his nose. “Yes, yes, well, now that it is all said and done, I’m getting out of that wretched thing.” He had just exposed his hairy old man legs to a crowd of strangers, and he wasn’t exactly pleased with that fact. Stan would have laughed himself hoarse if he knew.

 _Would_ laugh himself hoarse, Ford promised himself. They would save Stanley, and the Pines brothers would look back on those dark times with a grin and a glass of whisky.

With this vow fresh in mind, Ford marched toward the Temple and its shining pillar, the children close at his heel.

* * *

The glare of the spotlights was blinding, dizzyingly so. Laughter erupted from everywhere, rippling in the air in maddening echoes. The figures in the bleachers pointed at the man standing in the boxing ring below, grins slashing across their shadowed features. Stan wilted under their scrutiny, taking a step backward, hands dropping uselessly at his sides.

In front of him, Ford’s double still had his gun raised.

“Not one more step,” the doppelganger said, through grit teeth. “You’ll _die_ before I let you hurt a single hair on their heads.”

The fake Wendy twirled her axe in one hand. “I vote we still take him out. It’s the only way to make sure the freak won’t murder us in our sleep.”

“C’mon, you guys,” Stan said. “You know I wouldn’t—”

“How could you?” Mabel said, between hiccups. “We _trusted_ you!”

“It can’t have been all fake…” Soos sounded as if he could barely believe the events unfolding in front of his eyes. “All those years, everything he did for us… it can’t have been all fake, right?”

“Of course it’s all fake,” Dipper added, each word like a curse. In his arms, Mabel gave another sob. “That’s what _he_ does. Lie and cheat. He already pulled this con on us, remember? Pretending to be someone else? It’s just more of the same _bullshit!_ ”

“No, no, no,” Stan said. He held up his hands, taking a step forward. “Listen, I’m—”

There was a loud deflagration, and Stan’s world flashed white with pain. He grabbed at his shoulder; under his trembling fingers, there was now a circular, sizzling wound.

“Next one goes through your skull,” Ford enunciated, very calmly.

Stan shook his head, a sob catching at his throat. “C’mon… I don’t wanna fight. I know none of you are real, but…”

“Oh, _nooo!_ ” a voice gloated in the distance. Bill was sitting on the edge of his throne, clearly enjoying the show. “D’you hear that, folks?! Our brave hero is already throwing in the towel!”

Once more, the audience was seized with hilarity. Stan felt like he was shrinking in the heat of their stares.

 _You want to give up?_ a soft voice sounded next to Stan’s ear. Frills was floating around his head, in his pink salamander form. _You struggled so hard just to get here..._

Stan looked up at him, despairingly. The words just stuck in his throat.

_If you want, I can guide you out of here. You won’t accomplish what you set out to do, but at least you won’t have to fight your family, right?_

“What I set out to do…” Stan croaked, eyes fixed on the twisted version of his family. “What I came here for…”

“Ooh, they’re my family, I can’t _hurt_ them!” Bill kept crowing. The demon wiped fake tears from his eye. “I don’t hit children, I’m not like my _daddy!_ ”

Frills looked toward Bill. His simple features showed what appeared to be a frown. _He’s acting strangely, isn’t he? Why doesn’t he want to fight you himself?_

“C’mon!” said the fake version of Wendy. “Let’s get this guy!”

And she surged forward, swinging her axe at Stan’s head. He managed to evade her assault, only to feel a fist colliding with his nose.

Soos’ hands went to his mouth as Stan gingerly touched the blood pouring from his nose.

“Oh, no!” the young man cried. “I’m sorry, Mister—”

Stan stumbled away, just in time; Wendy’s axe swooshed next to him, nearly taking a chunk of his nose in the process.

“Don’t apologize!” she screamed. “There’s no Mr. Pines! There’s never been!” She was _crying_. Stan had never seen Wendy cry, _never_. “You… you piece of shit! How could you do that to us?!”

“N-No…” Stan said. “Soos, Wendy, I don’t wanna—”

Wendy took another swing at him. Out of pure reflex, Stan stepped to the side, accidentally tripping her with his foot. She fell down face first with a curse, while Dipper and Soos screamed her name.

It was like being dipped in ice-cold water. “I didn’t…” Stan stammered. “I didn’t mean to do that, no, _no_ , _I’m sorry_ —”

Tiny hands were pummelling at him. “You leave her alone!” Mabel shrieked. Soon, her brother was hurling himself at Stan as well, screaming in inept rage.

Stan pushed them away, feeling sick to his stomach. He knew they were only figments of Bill’s twisted imagination, he knew they weren’t real. He knew that it was all just a blatant attempt to break his spirit and twist the knife in the metaphorical wound.

And _yet_ …

“I don’t want to hurt any of you,” he kept telling those fake versions of the kids, _his_ kids. “C’mon, _please_ …”

The crowd found his distress highly amusing. Bill wasn’t laughing, but he seemed utterly engrossed by the events unfolding in front of him. The demon was sporting the distinct look of a child who was using a magnifying glass to burn insects on a sidewalk.

Stan pushed a little too hard, and Dipper fell, his head hitting the ground with a upsetting noise. The other children rushed to surround him. Mabel wept over her brother’s body.

Something came into view, and Stan all but welcomed the blow.

It was the butt of a pistol, he realized belatedly. Stan fell like a stone, blood and tears mingling on his cheeks. Ford was standing above him, laser gun pointed at Stan’s face.

“This is the last time you’ll hurt me, or any of the people I care about,” Ford said, voice shaking. “ _This is the last time I’ll let you have any hold on my life!_ ”

Stan looked into the barrel of the gun. He closed his eye, accepting Ford’s judgment.

In the distance, Bill Cipher laughed. “ _Welp_. We’ll see about that, won’t we, Fordsie?”

And with those words, everything returned to Stan’s mind crystal clear.

The reason why he’d come back here. The reason he’d sacrificed everything last summer, the reason why he kept chasing fights with that thrice-damned demon.

With those words came another realization that nearly made Stan laugh out loud.

That stupid salamander was _right_. Why had Bill Cipher not chosen to join the fight? The reason was so simple, so _dumb_. Stan felt like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. He wiped the blood from his nose, a maddened chuckle escaping his mouth.

“Hey, Ford…” he told the greyscale version of his brother. “D’you think you could make rocket-powered boots for me one day?”

The fake Ford only glared, cocking his gun.

“Heh.” Stan offered a lazy grin to the weapon pointed at his face. “The real Fordsie would be over the moon at the idea of making rocket-powered boots. Who’s a bad copy now?”

The creature frowned, not knowing that it had just spelled its doom. Its finger moved to pull the trigger of its gun.

And only bubbles came out.

Stan quirked a brow. “It’s my mindscape here, ‘member? I make the rules, _sucka_.” And he clicked his heels together.

A pair of heavy metallic boots appeared on Stan’s feet. They propelled him away from Ford’s doppelganger, mere seconds before the creature fired his gun again. Stan soared in the air, away from Bill’s twisted puppets.

And toward the smug-ass bastard himself.

“Wait, _what_ —” Bill began, mere moments before Stan’s fist collided with his jaw.

The blow knocked the demon out of his eyesore of a throne. In fact, the structure itself exploded into mist, as did the boxing ring and the bleachers below. Gone were the ruins surrounding them; even the raging fires went out, snuffed out like the flickering of a dying candle.

The only thing that remained was a great white emptiness—much like the one that had filled Stan’s mind last summer, when he’d trapped and killed Bill Cipher.

Stan landed with a ‘ _thud!_ ’ and a self-satisfied snort. Bill Cipher lay sprawled on the ground, rubbing his jaw.

“So I was right,” Stan said. “All of this… it was just you making yourself seem stronger than you really are. We’re in _my_ mindscape. You said it yourself, you’re just an itty-bitty part of that nacho demon. You don’t have any of his powers. You’re nothing at all.”

“Took you long enough to figure it out,” Bill said. “You’re less slow on the uptake than Fordsie.” He managed a sleazy smile. “Then again, considering _who_ you really are, it’s not so surprising.”

The demon looked up at Stan. The shadows had gone from Bill’s face, leaving only familiar features—features that Stan saw every time he looked in a mirror.

That revelation should have struck Stan with numb. It should have filled him with dread. He should have run away screaming, he should have broken down into tears.

Instead, Stanley Pines only felt as ancient and weary as the world itself.

“They’ll hate you,” said the demon with Stan’s face, teeth stained with blood. “Your so-called family. What I just showed you… well, it’s just a preview of what’s waiting for you out there, isn’t it? You’ve broken their precious trust, and _they’ll never forgive you for it._ ”

“So what?” Stan said. “You really thought all this shit would scare me, don’tcha? You thought I’d just give up. You’re forgettin’ something, ya freak. I’m _old_. I’ve been through a lot of crap. I’m used to getting my hopes up for nothin’.” Stan sighed; he felt so, _so_ very tired. “My life’s been a series of disappointments. What’s one more’s gonna do, right?”

He grabbed the demon by the collar. Bill’s smirk grew wider. “You’re doing this for nothing. They’ll hate you, and—”

“You don’t get it, do you? I don’t _care_ ,” Stan added, somewhat softly. Some of the sadness weighting on his shoulders seemed to be directed at Bill Cipher. It was a strange thing to realize. “You’ve never loved anyone, have you? Of course not. Else you’d understand where I’m coming from.”

Bill flared his teeth at him. “ _Don’t presume to know me, you low-grade knockoff_.”

“Right,” said Stan. “Keep telling yourself that, buddy.”

 _Oh!_ said a familiar voice. Frills was swaying about in the great white space. _I get it now! I understand why you came back!_

Bill’s single eye found the creature. He went slack in Stan’s grip, mouth hanging open.

“You… you idiot!” the demon shrilled. “Why did you bring _him_ here?!”

Stan exchanged a glance with Frills. The salamander just wiggled his tail a little.

“What, you’re scared of _him?_ ” Stan said, snorting.

“Don’t you know who that is?! Why he followed you here?!”

Stan shrugged. “I don’t really care either way. Seems like you don’t like him much, so I guess he’s okay in my book.”

 _Aw!_ said Frills. _That’s such a nice thing to say! People usually hate me, you know! They call me nasty names._ His red mouth formed a pout. _No one ever invites me to parties…_

“Don’t let him come any closer!” Bill screeched. “Get him away from me!”

“Nah,” said Stan. “I think you’re the one who’ll be going, pal.”

The demon tried to wrestle himself from Stan’s grasp, wiggling like a panicked snake. Soon, however, the screams coming out of his mouth devolved to laughter. _Demented_ laughter.

The kind you’d hear from someone who had nothing to lose.

“What’s one disappointment is going to do, indeed!” Bill said, between guffaws. His eye was even filling with tears. “Here’s one you didn’t expect! _Enjoy being dead, buddy!_ ”

Stan’s mind went blank as the demon turned to dust in his hands. “Wait, what?”

And before he could make any sense of Bill Cipher’s last words, something yanked him backward.

Stan’s stomach lurched painfully as he found himself floating in a large, circular hall. Behind him stood a terrifyingly familiar mechanical device. The mouth of the portal showed a void filled with stars, while a dizzying array of colours bled at its edges.

At the base of the portal, there was a rectangular metallic surface. On the table, restrained by shackles, was the body of a man. Half of his face was swollen, dirty with dry, caked blood.

Stan felt all thought vacating from his brain. “No… no, no, _no_ …”

 _I guess they managed to separate the bit of your original essence from the rest of your soul_ , a voice said next to Stan. Frills had accompanied him out of the mindscape. Gone was the dopey grin and the eyes glistening with good humour. This strange creature was as enormous as the portal looming behind them. His presence made Stan feel small and insignificant like a little child.

_Seems like they’re trying to do the same to every version of you across the multiverse. That way, they can gather every part of the one you call Bill Cipher._

Stan stared dully into the creature’s black eyes, his mind still drawing a blank. “W-What?”

_That’s what I think, anyway. I’m not familiar with that kind of procedure. They ejected your soul when they didn’t need it anymore. That’s when I felt you calling me._

“I don’t,” said Stan. “I don’t remember calling you…”

_It’s not the first time, too. I came to you a few years ago, but you turned me away. You must have changed your mind._

None of Frills’ ramblings made any sense to Stan. “What… what the hell are you talking about?”

 _Thirty-two years ago, in that alleyway in Chicago. Don’t you remember?_ Frills tilted his head at Stan. _You wished for death, so I came._

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Stan. “You’re… you’re a god of death…”

 _Yes?_ Frills seemed confused. _Didn’t I tell you about it?_

Stan shook his head. “No… no, no, _hell_ no… if you’re a god of death, then the reason you came for me…”

 _Oh, yes,_ Frills said, a bit too cheerfully. _Your body had started to shut down._ _Your spirit has been out of your physical form for just a bit too long, you see! That’s why you’re slipping away right now. And that’s why I came to fetch you. ‘Cept you decided to rush back to your mind. That was weird, you know. Usually, people stay dead when they die!_

“No,” said Stan, ever so softly. “No, no, _no_ …”

Frills gave him a loopy smile. The psychedelic lights of the portal shone around his pink head like a halo. Yet the star-studded void beckoning behind him seemed ever so cold.

 _So,_ said Xolotl, Lord of Monsters and Death, _are you ready to go, Stanley Pines?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yeah, so someone actually made a fanart for this fic?? Like, please go give all of your praise to LosAngeles/maybe0rdinary  
> [over yonder](https://www.instagram.com/p/CGKzAiyDXlf/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link)!!!


	22. Chapter 22

Wendy and the others moved in the shadowy parts of the forest, guided by the lights and sounds coming from the motel parking lot.

The llamasaur had brought them here instead of the Mystery Shack. Wendy still didn’t understand how he knew Pacifica had been taken to this dingy motel in the middle of nowhere. The agents must have moved her by car; he couldn’t have just followed her scent. Then again, he was a friggin’ alien—one who looked like he was wearing a grandma’s coat stolen from a charity sale, but an alien nonetheless. Who knew what other kinds of nifty tricks he had under his proverbial sleeve?

Grenda began the party by firing one glitter bomb, causing quite a ruckus in the motel parking lot. The agents irrupted from their rooms, some still clad in pyjamas. Grenda then aimed another bomb at the man barking orders, prompting more yells from his lackeys.

Then, one of the doors opened, and Pacifica rushed outside, followed by a bellowing red-haired man. She set out for the forest behind the motel, Agent Blauer in hot pursuit.

The llamasaur immediately took off, his little legs going so fast that Soos and McGucket had trouble keeping pace with him. It left Wendy and the girls behind to deal with the agents. Six of them remained in the parking lot, searching for the source of the disturbance with flashlights.

Six against three. Usually, Wendy would have liked those odds. McGucket, however, had only agreed to their harebrained scheme on one condition and one condition only: that they would not confront the agents directly.

“Keep out of sight!” he'd kept whining. “Ah don’t want to have you kiddos getting arrested!”

 _McGucket_ , acting like a responsible, reasonable adult. Wendy had lived in Gravity Falls her entire life, and yet that was the weirdest friggin’ thing she’d ever seen.

Still, Wendy didn’t mind going for a stealthier approach; it would make things more interesting, after all. Otherwise, the poor bastards just wouldn’t stand a chance, would they?

“Candy, disable the security cameras if there’s any,” Wendy ordered. “Grenda, keep supporting me from a distance, yeah?”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Candy said with a salute, while Grenda nodded, saying, “Got it!”

The girls scattered to do as they were told. They blended in with the shadows perfectly in their ninja gears. Wendy peered over the bushes, trying to see if there was any agent who’d wandered too far from the rest. Her dad, bless him, had taught her how to do a perfect chokehold. He’d told Wendy the skill was useful to wrestle bears, but she had never attempted _that_.

(Sometimes, she worried about her dad. She really needed to set him up with the mayor, maybe that would make him chill a little.)

One agent was creeping toward her, and Wendy’s lips twitched into a grin. She waited for the perfect moment, like a lynx lying in ambush for a rabbit. After inspecting the bushes where Wendy was hidden, the man turned, giving a soft curse. As quiet as a shadow, Wendy sprung from her hiding place, bringing him down in the undergrowth. He was a grown man, but she was a _Corduroy_.

In the distance, she heard another bomb going off, followed by a slew of curses. Was it one of their stink bombs or one of their smoke bombs? Wendy didn’t know. She dragged the unconscious agent away from prying eyes, and began her hunt anew.

The five remaining agents were gathered in the middle of the parking lot, where they were illuminated by the lights of a car. Wendy bit down a curse. Thankfully, another bomb went off, right in the middle of their little huddle. They scattered, and from their moaning and griping, it probably wasn’t just a smoke bomb. Wendy grinned; she’d been there while the girls had worked on their stink bombs, she knew the foul-smelling hell Grenda had just unleashed on those poor fools.

Something scuttled at her feet, and it took all of Wendy’s willpower not to cry out. She inspected the ground, heart pounding. Was that some kind of forest critter? She couldn’t see any trace of it.

“Wait!” someone cried from the parking lot. “I think I saw something moving over there!”

He was pointing in Wendy’s direction. Again, she inwardly cursed. Three of the agents were making their way toward her. Wendy moved behind a tree, hoping to escape their flashlights. One of them let out an exclamation, and Wendy knew she hadn’t been fast enough. Welp. So much for stealth.

The moment he was close enough, she leaped from her hiding spot, knocking the man off his feet with a well-aimed kick to the knee. A second agent lunged at Wendy, grabbing her by the arm. Wendy twisted out of the woman’s grasp, using the momentum to send her sprawling to the ground as well. In a fluid motion, Wendy turned to strike at a third opponent, only to freeze when she saw what the woman was holding.

“That’s enough of that, kiddo,” the agent said, taser in hand. “Just follow us back to the car, will you?”

The fourth agent pinned Wendy’s arms behind her back before pushing her forward. Wendy gritted her teeth; she’d made a mess of things. _Again_.

The agent threw her on the ground, and Wendy squinted to shield her eyes from the glare of the car headlights.

“What the hell?” one of the agents said. ““It’s just a kid!”

“One of that girl’s friend, maybe?” another added.

“Probably,” the first agent said, and she reached to remove Wendy’s mask.

She was stopped by the scratchy sound of someone talking through a radio. Frowning, the woman took the receiver in hand.

“…you copy?” The words coming out were barely perceptible. “…in the woods… _something_ …”

“What _thing?_ ” the woman answered, sounding exasperated. “I asked you to find Blauer and the girl, not to take in the sights.”

“…sounds… hooves… there’s… kinda like a horse…”

“Like a _horse?_ ” The agent exchanged confused looks with the rest of her team. “Decker, you mean to tell me there’s a horse wandering the woods in the middle of the _night?_ ”

The man’s reply was drowned by a sudden loud noise—the shriek of twisted metal, followed by the sound of glass shattering. The agents whirled on their feet, only to find that one of their cars had simply… _disappeared_. Like something had just dragged it back into the shadows of the forest.

Laughter nearly bubbled out of Wendy’s mouth, and she had to fight to keep it in.

“Whoa,” she said, nonchalantly. “Steve, huh?” She had only halfway believed her dad's stories about the mysterious guardian of the forest.

“What did you say?” the agent lady said. “Steve? Who’s Steve?”

The woman was interrupted yet again by the voice from the radio. “…horse… see it… white… wait, it’s charging… no, no, wait— _arghhhh!_ ”

And the radio went silent.

“The hell?” one of the male agents exclaimed. “What’s going on?”

Several small shapes scurried about, visible for only half a second before returning to the darkness. Wendy’s smirk became even more insolent.

“What was—” one agent began, before his words turned to screams. Something—no, _several_ somethings—had climbed on his back, and the unseen creatures were now scratching at his scalp.

Another woman shrieked when more of these critters jumped on her head, pulling at her hair. The creatures were covered in branches, dirt and leaves, making them look like pint-sized commandos. They had sharp, gleaming teeth and… bright red noses?

Wendy laughed herself silly while everything around her devolved to chaos.

The gnomes soon overpowered their targets, sending the two of them scampering to safer ground. Three agents remained, including the woman with the taser and the two that Wendy had injured. They startled when a series of deep bellows resounded in the distance.

"Yep, yep, yep," Wendy said, recognizing the warcries of the Manotaurs.

“What… what was that?” said the woman with the taser.

Wendy shrugged. “Bears. Lotsa them in these parts, y’know.”

The radio at the woman’s hip let out another few scratchy noises. “…request for…” said a voice, a different one than before. “…need backup…”

Her face grew paler. “You two,” she ordered her last agents, “go help them, _now!_ I’ll keep watch over the kid.”

The two sped off, their dark suits blending into the shadowed forest. The woman scowled at Wendy. The latter simply returned the stare, sitting in a nonchalant pose.

The agent’s glare grew even more murderous when a stink bomb hit her right in the back of the head. With a curse, she turned on her heel, taser at the ready. Wendy seized her chance, leaping and grabbing the agent in a chokehold. A few seconds later, and the woman was unconscious at Wendy’s feet.

“You okay, boss?” Grenda said, jogging toward Wendy.

“Yep,” Wendy said. “Nice job, G.”

The girl replied with two thumbs’ up. “No problem! Where did the rest of these jerks go?”

Before Wendy could answer, a third figure clad in a dark mask and suit was appeared next to them. “I took care of the security cameras!” Candy said, offering Wendy another salute. “And look what I’ve found!”

She gestured at the three people following after her. Well, three people and a certain four-legged creature. The llamasaur was sticking so closely to Pacifica, it almost looked as if he wanted to jump into her arms. The girl was patting his little furred head with a soft expression that was very much unlike her.

“You did it, you guys!” Soos said, running toward Wendy and the girls. “I knew you’d be able to take care of these evil agent doods!”

“A- _HEM!_ ” a familiar voice sounded. Jeff the gnome was standing atop the shoulders of two of his brethren. Their faces were smudged in dirt, while their usually bright clothing was camouflaged under a bunch of leaves and branches. “Sure you’re not forgetting something important, _humans?_ ”

“Wait, what are _they_ doing here?” Pacifica said with a scowl.

“What are we—” Jeff sputtered. “Saving your sorry _butts_ , it’s plain as day!” In the distance, they heard another roar, followed by more bellows. Jeff nodded, as if that pleased him. “The Manotaurs are actually doing as I asked. Huh. Who woulda thunk?”

“The Manotaurs are here?” Grenda said, excitedly. “And, and…”

“And the unicorns, and the fairies, and every woodland creature who lives here, yadda, yadda, yadda.” Jeff gave Wendy a dry look. “Don’t worry, it’s not our first rodeo. We know how to scare off humans without getting caught or being seen. I mean, it’s just _how we’ve been living our lives since forever_ , right?”

“Oh, oh,” said Soos. “We heard this weird noise, like something was making origami out of a car! Was it…”

“Steve,” Wendy said simply.

Soos raised an eyebrow. “Steve?”

“Steve,” Jeff confirmed with a nod. “Wonder what he does with all those cars, anyway? Does he _eat_ them?”

“Wait, weren’t you guys being pursued by an agent?” Candy asked McGucket and the others. “How d’you get rid of him?”

“McGucket took care of it,” Soos said. “Right, McGucket?”

The old man showed them his banjo—his poor battered, _broken_ banjo. His lower lip trembled at the sight of the instrument.

“Ugh, don’t you dare cry!” Pacifica said. “I’ll buy you a new one. Or I’ll blackmail my parents into buying you a new one.”

“You could blackmail the government,” Candy said, rather cheerfully.

“Sounds like a plan,” Wendy said with a smirk. She cocked her ear, listening to the sounds coming from the forest. Everything had gone quiet. Soon enough, a few large figures came out of the woods. Three Manotaurs were carrying the unconscious bodies of some agents. One man was draped on the back of a unicorn; the prissy hoofbag seemed pissed as hell to be treated like a beast of burden. Wendy did not even hide her smirk.

The agents were dumped into a pile in the middle of the parking lot. They would wake up tomorrow with quite the headache, Wendy figured.

“See?” Jeff said, gesturing to the stack of agents moaning on the ground. “Ain’t that a purty sight? Aren’t you humans glad that we’re on _your_ side?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wendy said. “Rub it in our face, will you?”

“Thank ya kindly,” McGucket said. “We humans tend ta forget, but it’s yer town as well, ain’t it?”

“Yep,” said Jeff. Flanked by his gnomes, the Manotaurs and the unicorns, he almost cut a heroic figure. “It’s our home alright. Not about to let some guys in weird suits ruin it, right, guys?”

“YEAH!” boomed one of the Manotaurs.

“What… what on earth?” a voice said, hoarse with disbelief.

The newcomer had come from behind the motel as well. Blauer’s red hair was caked with dirt and leaves, and one of his eyes kept twitching. His knees were shaking under the weight of his body; Wendy was sure he’d crumple to the ground if hit by a breeze.

“I was right,” he continued, almost feverishly. “I was right! There is something wrong with this town! There is, _there is!_ ”

“Wow, _rude_ much?” Jeff said, as if he and his friends hadn’t spent the last few minutes beating the crap out of Blauer’s men. “Typical self-centered human, am I right, guys?”

Blauer chuckled, as if he hadn’t heard what Jeff had just said. “There won’t be more of these stupid excuses, will there? All of you were caught assaulting employees of the US government…” He let out another bark of laughter, though the sound was rather unhinged. “It’s _over_. _You’ve lost!_ All of you freaks are done!”

“You kidnapped a child, ya lunatic!” McGucket screamed, startling Wendy. When was the last time she’d seen the old man in such a fury? “How dare you hurt that poor girl?!”

Blauer didn’t respond to McGucket’s admonition; he just couldn't stop laughing.

Pacifica, for her part, was frowning. “From what I gather, you guys made sure not to be seen, right?” she asked Jeff, pointedly ignoring Blauer.

“Yeah, of course,” Jeff replied. “What part of ‘not our first rodeo’ don’t you get, kid?”

“So, there’s no evidence, is there?” Pacifica added. “No photos, no videos?”

“I cut the feed for the security cameras,” Candy added with a bright smile.

“What about that missing car?”

“Steve threw it in the valley!” one of the Manotaurs answered. “He really don’t like them man chariots!”

“Me neither!” roared another Manotaur. “They’re LOUD!”

Pacifica smiled a little. “I guess some of the, erm, _ruffians_ who assaulted those poor civil servants took it up for a spin before sending it over the cliff. Because we agree, all of this is the work of young delinquents, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Soos said. “Lotsa biker gangs in these here parts. Quite a problem, I tell you, dude.”

Blauer had stopped laughing. His face was quickly growing redder and redder. “No. No, no, no, no… I saw you freaks. I can give a _testimony_ —”

“And who would believe you?” Pacifica said, flipping her hair. “An official member of the government, talking about unicorns and gnomes like they’re supposed to exist. A member of the government who went against his superior’s orders and kidnapped a _child_ , no less…”

Blauer’s face went from crimson to bone white within a mere second. “Why, you little—”

“What was it that you said?” Pacifica was now inspecting her nails, nonchalantly. The whole of the Pines Rescue Squad stood behind her, all sporting the same smirk. “It’s your word against ours, is that it?”

Blauer fell to his knees. Finally, _mercifully_ , he was silent.

* * *

Grunkle Ford marched at the forefront of the crowd, flanked by Mabel and her brother.

He seemed more confident in his nerdy sweater and long coat ensemble. Then again, he should be free to make his own fashion choices. Even if those choices meant looking like a high school science teacher who’d taken a jaunt or two in a post-apocalyptic universe. Mabel couldn’t judge him, not really.

The men standing guard at the entrance of the Temple of Dawn dropped their weapons at the sight of the mob marching up the stairs. They might have been scared of Grunkle Ford as well; his grumpy face certainly was frightening enough. Oh, and so were the two laser guns in his hands, Mabel supposed.

Grunkle Ford kicked down the doors, to the great delight of the crowd. Inside the temple, everyone froze: attendants carrying treasures, priests in the middle of prayers, guards startling out of their stupor. The mob poured from behind Grunkle Ford. There were exclamations of outrage at the sight of the altars covered in gold and other precious trinkets.

The attendants and priests turned tail and fled at the sight of the crowd, though Mabel didn’t see exactly where they could go. The grey-robed guards stood their ground, energy spears at the ready. Ford rolled his eyes, then bared his teeth at them in a frightful scowl. The guards clearly wavered on their spot.

“Kids, search for Jheselbraum in the levels below,” Ford told Mabel and her brother. “I’ll head for the portal room and save Stanley.”

“How do you know he’s there?” Dipper asked.

Grunkle Ford made a strange face. “It’s complicated. You two be careful, okay?”

“You too, Grunkle Ford!” Mabel made sure to give him the tightest hug she could before he flew off with his rocket boots. She couldn’t see the grey-robed goons’ faces, but she was sure their jaws had dropped to the floor. They didn’t exactly make the most dignified of sounds as Grunkle Ford dropped through their midst, kicking and shooting at them.

“C’mon, Mabel,” Dipper said, taking her hand. “Let’s find a way to the basement levels.”

Zuri scoffed. “Let’s find a way?” She reached out and grabbed a priest who was trying to flee, his arms filled with treasure. “Hey, you! How do we get to the basement?”

“A-At the back there is an elevator,” the man sputtered. “H-How do you know about the l-lower levels…?”

In response, Zuri shoved him aside, where he found himself mobbed by a group of angry civilians. “See? Stupid easy. You wanna lead the way, Dipper?”

“Huh?” Dipper turned wide eyes to her. “Why me?”

Zuri grinned. “I dunno. For a kid your age, you kinda have it together, y’know. Take after your uncle on that part, I guess.”

Dipper went beet red, and Mabel had to keep herself from laughing.

“Alright,” Dipper said, throwing a peeved glance toward his twin. “Let’s do this, I guess.”

Mabel and the others fought their way through the chaos. People in the mob tore the altars down, chasing after the priests carrying stolen treasure. Some were helping Yaspa and her fighters; together, they overpowered the guards through sheer number. Grunkle Ford assisted them by stunning a few grey-robed goons. Soon, however, he was soaring up the twisting staircase, propelled by his boots. Mabel tried to keep her worry at bay as he disappeared in the levels above.

Finally, Mabel and the others rushed inside the elevator, and Dipper pushed the button leading down. Her heart hammered in her chest as they sank under the temple. Save for a flickering light above their head, the elevator cage was dark, in a spooky horror movie way. Unlike Dipper, Mabel wasn’t very fond of scary movies. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She could be brave, she was a _Pines_. She’d punched a unicorn and laughed in the face of Bill Cipher. Her hand found Dipper’s, and he squeezed it back. She could be brave, yes; she had her brother with her, and he had her.

The elevator came to a stop with a loud ‘ _clunk’._ Mabel and her companions walked through a deserted hallway, before arriving upon a catwalk. It bridged a deep, yawning chasm. Mabel’s heart skipped a beat, and she found herself grabbing her brother’s sleeve. She could spy an equal amount of fear showing on his pale face.

“What’s with all these?” Dipper said, pointing to a bunch of large, glowing cables leading to the darkness under their feet.

“It almost feels like they’re full of magical energy,” Kyan said. He inspected the cables more closely. “Huh. Some of them go down, but others go up. Wait, could those cables be powering the portal?”

“The portal is powered by _magic?_ ” Dipper sputtered.

“Your uncle’s portal wasn’t?” Kyan retorted, sounding equally confused.

“No, it used nuclear waste.”

“’Nookooleear waste’? What’s that?”

Dipper winced. “Eh. Would take forever to explain. So, you think the Eye of Dawn are using these to carry magical energy to the portal?”

“Yes,” said Kyan. “It must take quite a lot of energy, though. What kind of source are they using?”

Mabel took her brand new grappling hook in hand, wiggling her eyebrows. “Just one way to find out, right?”

Dipper threw a nervous glance to the darkness below. “Oh man. We’re doing this. _We’re really doing this_.”

“Hang on tight, brobro!” Mabel said, grabbing him by the waist and vaulting over the rail. He screamed, but she could only laugh madly as the magnetic hook stuck to the catwalk above their heads. Instead of a rope, a brilliant ray of blue energy slowed their fall. It felt even more exhilarating than using her old grappling hook.

Their landing was very smooth, all things considered. Mabel looked above; as she’d expected, Kyan was using a spell to control his and his sister’s descent. Soon, the four of them were standing together in a large space, one that had been hollowed out from rock. Mabel could not see the catwalk above their heads even if she craned her neck. Their surroundings were only illuminated by the glow of the pipes, which were fastened to several bits of machinery. The purpose of those contraptions soon became very apparent.

Chained to these machines were _people_ , men and women alike. Moans filtered from their mouths; they seemed too weak to make any other kind of sound. Some of them managed to raise weary eyes to Mabel and the others.

“By the Lord of Twilight…” Kyan said.

His sister was shaking her head. She trembled with rage. “Those bastards… _those bastards!_ ”

“ _That’s_ how they power the portal?” Dipper said in quiet horror. “Why they keep kidnapping people?”

“Dipper, we have to save them!” Mabel said, tugging on his arm. “That’s just… that’s just too horrible!”

The prisoners started to get more agitated. Their whimpers grew louder, some even managing to form words. One woman seemed to draw every ounce of energy left in her body to speak with some semblance of coherency.

“You…” she rasped. “You two are…”

Kyan gasped and ran toward her, his sister in tow. Mabel and Dipper exchanged a glance before following the two siblings.

“Ammat!” Kyan cried. “Ammat, it’s us!”

The woman blinked, her clouded eyes growing slightly more focused. “Kyan? And is that…. Zuri, too? What are you two… doing here?”

“We came with Yaspa to save you!” Zuri exclaimed.

“Yaspa?” The woman’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Yaspa’s here? My Yaspa?”

“Yes!” Zuri’s voice choked a little. “She’s here, we’re all here!”

The tears flowed from Ammat’s eyes as Zuri worked to unchain her. As soon as she was out of her bonds, Zuri and Kyan drew her into a tight hug. Mabel’s own eyes were watering.

Dipper nudged Mabel in the ribs, and the twins set out to liberate the other prisoners. Many burst into tears upon regaining their freedom; one woman even embraced Mabel, thanking her over and over again.

They helped the liberated prisoners away from the machines, gathering them in the middle of the great cavern. Ammat draped both of her arms over Kyan and Zuri’s shoulders, lips forming a tired, but tender smile.

“Thank you, children,” she said. “I had almost lost hope…”

“Kyan? Zuri?” It was the man who had been chained next to Ammat. “I’ve heard those names before… in the deeper parts of this place, there’s this lady who keeps…” He hacked and wheezed, as if the simple act of speaking was painful for him.

“Lady? What lady?” Kyan said, exchanging a look with his sister. “Sir, please, would you tell us where to find her? It’s… it’s important!”

“That way, deeper in…” the man said, pointing, “There are… there are others with her…”

Zuri pulled away from her brother and Ammat. Before anyone could say anything, she took off, heading in the direction the man was pointing.

“Zuri—” Kyan called after her. He turned toward Ammat, who simply nodded. Not long afterward, he was rushing after his sister, Mabel and Dipper closely following.

They found themselves in a smaller space, almost more of a tunnel than a cavern. Glowing cables ran over their heads, leading the way. They arrived into another larger room carved out of rock; here, they found more people chained to the machines on the walls. In contrast to the first batch of prisoners, those men and women were eerily quiet, save for the sound of their raspy breathing.

“Mom!” they heard Zuri crying out. “Dad! It’s me, Zuri!”

Zuri was kneeling before two people—a man with green skin and a woman the same shade as Kyan and his sister. The man’s head lolled to the side, and he appeared deeply unconscious, but a few sounds escaped the woman’s lips. She looked at Zuri with glassy, unfocused eyes.

“Kyan… Zuri…” she muttered.

“Yes!” Zuri said. “It’s me, Mom! Me and Kyan! We’re here!”

“Kyan, Zuri…” was the woman’s response. “Kyan… Zuri…” On and on she repeated their names, seemingly unaware that her daughter was just in front of her, pleading on her knees.

Kyan stared at his parents, his mouth working soundlessly. Mabel grabbed her brother’s hand, feeling a lump forming in her throat.

“Wh-What’s wrong with her?” Zuri asked. Mabel had never heard her sound so _frightened_. “Why doesn’t she recognize me?”

Dipper inspected the machines fastened to the rock walls. “How long has she been there?” he said, very quietly. No one answered him.

Kyan took a few tentative steps forward, falling to his knees next to his sister. He reached for his mother almost as if he feared she would disappear. “Mom? Dad? Is that… really you? Do you… do you remember me?”

His father remained profoundly asleep, while his mother continued to mutter, “Kyan… Zuri… Kyan…”

Something seemed to hit Mabel in the chest—a wave of deep, relentless longing. Suddenly, she missed her parents so much she almost felt she could not breathe. Were they alright? Were they aware that their children were missing? Were they _worried?_ Dipper squeezed her hand; Mabel knew he was thinking the exact same thing.

“It’s no use,” Kyan whispered. “They don’t even notice we’re here… all these years I’ve been hoping and—” His voice broke before he could finish his sentence. Next to him, his sister was casting her gaze away, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

“Would a healing spell work?” Dipper said. “I mean, would it heal their minds too? Not just your parents, but everyone else too.”

“A healing spell? On that kind of scale?” Kyan shook his head. “I don’t know if I could… it would take a lot of energy to make it work…”

Mabel frowned. “Wait, could we like, reverse the flow of energy? Make it so it goes back to them instead of going to the portal?”

Kyan’s tear-filled eyes widened. “I… I don’t know…”

“It’s worth giving it a shot, right?” Dipper said, attempting a smile for Kyan’s sake. “Besides, we can’t let that thing drain more of their energy.”

And they couldn’t let those machines supply more energy to the portal, that was for sure. Mabel felt a spike of worry for Grunkle Stan; what were those creepy cultists doing with him right now? Was he alright? Would they arrive in time to save him?

Kyan got to his feet, wiping his tears with his sleeve. His sister stood up as well, putting a hand over his shoulder.

“O-Okay,” he said. “Do… do you think there’s a control panel for those machines somewhere?”

“There must be,” Dipper answered. “C’mon, guys! We don’t have much time!”

Both Zuri and Kyan seemed reluctant to leave their parents’ side, but they followed Mabel and her brother without any protest. Mabel tried not to focus too much on the unfortunate souls surrounding them; their silence was growing more unnerving by the second.

“Don’t worry, you guys!” Mabel told them. Despite her best effort to sound cheerful, her voice shook a little. “We’ll free you! Don’t lose hope!”

“There!” Dipper said, pointing. A large machine was erected onto a metallic platform in the deepest part of the room; all the glowing pipes seemed to converge toward it. It was fitted with what appeared to be a control panel. Someone wearing orange robes was fiddling on the console. “I think that’s it!”

The orange-robed man turned toward them. “What on Mictlan…? How did you get here? Wait, those two small ones are the same species as…”

Mabel didn’t let him finish. “GRAPPLING HOOK!” she shouted, aiming above him. The man gave an undignified squawk as she surged toward him, punting him right in the face. He fell off his feet, holding his nose with both hands. Mabel kicked him again for good measure.

“Hey!” she heard a gruff voice calling out. Two guards were running toward the platform. “Stop that, or else…”

“Or else _what?_ ” Mabel said, putting one foot on the orange-robed jerk’s head. She tried to channel some of her Grunkle Ford’s spirit, putting on the meanest scowl she could muster. “Does it look like we’re afraid of you clowns?!”

“Well, maybe you should be!” one of them answered, pointing at them with his spear.

“ _Ugh!_ ” Dipper exclaimed. “We don’t have time for this!”

He drew two pieces of paper from under his hat, and the glyphs written on them burned a bright blue. The two guards were knocked back by a sudden—and inexplicable, to their eyes—gust of wind. They groaned in pain, using their spears to climb back to their feet.

“Mabel, Zuri!” Dipper cried. “Keep these guys busy while we reverse the flow of this stupid machine!”

“Got it!” Mabel said. The orange-robed man was grabbing at her foot. She struck his nose with her heel, and finally he went limp. “Take that, you jerk! And _stay down!_ ”

Zuri was already grappling with one of the two guards, fighting to wrestle control of his spear. The other guardsman, it seemed, would be Mabel’s prey. She jumped off the platform, aiming her grappling hook at his stupid mask. She could not help but grin as the hook struck him right in the middle of the snout. By then, Zuri had knocked out her own opponent with a well-placed swing of the spear. In a fluid motion, she directed the shaft toward the guard Mabel had stunned. The man crumpled to the ground beside his comrade.

“Woo!” Mabel pumped her fists in the air. “Taste the power of my GRAPPLING HOOK, you jerks!”

Suddenly, she felt the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. She whirled on her feet, seeing that her brother and Kyan had climbed on the platform. Dipper was… pretty much touching every button he could find and pulling levers at random. Kyan, on the other hand, was drawing a sigil in the air in a graceful, flowing motion.

Finally, Dipper tugged on a certain lever, and there was… not exactly a sound, but a sense of _something_ , an impression that Mabel felt in her very bones. The symbol in front of Kyan burst alight, filling the whole of the room with a brilliant blue light. Then, Mabel was hit with a wave of—well, not energy, not exactly, more like a gentle _warmth_ , more like the indescribable comfort of being wrapped in a quilt on a dreary winter day. Her fatigue evaporated, leaving her with an urge to bounce around and scream her joy at the top of her lungs.

Around them, people were stirring. Silence gave way to moans, which turned to mumbled words. Immediately, Zuri and Kyan rushed toward their parents.

“Mom! Dad!” Zuri cried as they dropped to their side. “Oh, please, please, _please_ …”

The green-skinned man was blinking at her. “What…” he said, hoarsely. “Who… who are…”

“DAD!” Zuri took his face in her hands. “Oh, Dad, please, _please!_ It’s me, it’s Zuri, it’s your little girl!”

Mabel looked away, eyes blurry with tears. She remembered another girl crying out in a similar way, barely a year ago.

Kyan unfastened their parents’ shackles. “Just… just take it easy. We’re here to help.” His mother fell into his arms, while Zuri caught their father. “You’re safe now, both of you.”

His composure cracked when his mother raised a trembling hand toward him. Very gently, she pushed his bangs aside, showing his third eye. A sound escaped her mouth; it took Mabel some time to realize that it was a _laugh_. A soft, relieved laugh. No other word filtered through her lips, but her eyes—full of love—showed well enough what she was thinking.

“By… by twilight,” Kyan and Zuri’s father breathed, “I… I know you. _I know you_. Zu… Zuri?”

Zuri laughed, bringing him closer. He patted her head, slowly, as if he didn’t quite remember how to do it.

Mabel held her hands over her mouth, smiling so hard it almost hurt. She was overcome with the urge to hug her brother; Dipper chuckled, gingerly returning her embrace.

As Mabel pulled away from her twin, she caught the eye of the woman chained next to Kyan and Zuri’s parents. It was strange; the lady didn’t have four or five eyes, like most of the people they’d met, but _seven_.

She smiled back at Mabel, in a serene way that seemed to smooth over all of her worry. “You,” she said. “I knew you would come for me.”

“You did?” Mabel gasped. “How did you know?”

The lady’s smile took an enigmatic quality. “It’s a long story that I will enjoy telling in a near future. Take me to your uncles, dear child. We don’t have much time.”

* * *

Ford flew, literally _flew_ over the stairs, fighting his way through waves of enemies. The grey-robed guards crowded the steps, hoping to slow his advance. Ford evaded all of their blows and fired stunning charge after stunning charge. He kicked at them with his rocket boots, sending a few men tumbling down the stairs. He cursed each and every one of them; he was wasting precious time fighting these idiots while Stanley was in peril.

Why, indeed, has the Eye of Dawn activated the portal? Ford entertained several theories, and none boded well for Stanley.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Ford reached the uppermost floor. The orange-robed priests circling the raised platform startled as he irrupted into the hall. Still, they soon resumed their creepy chanting. A tall figure stood near the steps leading to the portal. She stared at Ford, her expression inscrutable, but her hands did grip her staff a bit tighter.

The circular hall was bathed in an eerie light, one coming from the multitudes of stars peering from the other side of the portal. Ford’s mouth grew dry at the sight of the damned thing, but he pushed aside the rising panic threatening to overwhelm him. At the base of the portal, there was a figure lying on a rectangular contraption of sort.

Immediately, Ford surged forward, heart hammering in his chest. He caught a glimpse of his brother’s face. Stanley was deathly pale, and half of his face was swollen and covered in dried blood.

Anger coursed in Ford’s veins. “What have you done to him?” he hollered at Malakh. “ _What have you done to my brother?!_ ”

Malakh gave her lackeys a dismissive nod. “Continue the ritual. I’ll take care of this.”

In response, Ford screamed in rage. He soared toward the nearest orange-robed man, ramming his shoulder into the man’s chest. The other priest behind him raised his hand, trying to draw a symbol in the air. Before he could complete his task, Ford flapped his coat, revealing the protection sigils Mabel had sown within. The man yelped and stepped backward—but not fast enough to evade his own spell as it exploded in his face.

Ford shot up, in an attempt to escape the lightning spell he heard crackling from behind. Malakh had joined the fray. Ford fired a few stunning charges, which she easily deflected with her magical shield. He evaded another of her spells, then gritted his teeth as he felt the sharp bite of a burn on his back.

Ford pushed through the pain, turning toward the priest who’d wounded him. The man never had the time to complete his second sigil, and he dropped to the ground after earning himself a rocket-assisted kick to the face. Ford had no time to revel in his victory, however. Malakh and a fourth priest remained, firing spell upon spell toward him.

Ford zipped around, evading their magical attacks by a narrow margin. Finally, he found himself in position to aim at the last remaining priest. The stunning charges hit the man squarely in the chest, and he was blasted across the room.

Ford’s boots burst with blue light as he swerved and changed course, landing right in front of Malakh. Her expression remained oddly blank; there was no anger, no fear, not even a hint of triumph showing on her mangled features. She simply stared at Ford as he aimed both guns at her head.

“You fought for nothing,” Malakh said. “It’s already done. The sliver of the Master’s soul inside your brother’s body must have taken over by now. The only thing that remains is to—“

“The portal,” Ford interrupted her. “What did you activate it?”

“To gather all of the Master’s soul shards.”

Ford’s face drained of blood. “All of them? Then, what will happen to every version of Stanley across the multiverse—” He stopped, drawing in a sharp breath.

She nodded. “An acceptable loss, in exchange for the return of my Master. _Our_ Master.”

Ford let out a scream of _rage_. Again and again, he pulled the trigger, firing shot upon shot. All of his charges fizzled and died upon her shield. She did not move, did not say a word, did not utter a _sound_ as he unleashed his wrath on her.

Finally, _finally_ , Ford’s arms dropped limply to the side. The exhaustion of an entire lifetime struck him, and he panted, throat raw from his screams. Sobs threatened to escape his mouth.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” Malakh said. “But you must understand—”

She was interrupted by a _sound_ —no, more like an impression, a _sensation_. A second before, the air in the room had been crackling, _popping_ with overflowing energy, and now… it was just all _gone_. The low hum of the portal dimmed into nothingness, as did the kaleidoscope of colours seeping through the edges of its open mouth.

“No…” Malakh said, a hint of panic spiking this single word. “No, no, _no!_ ”

She screamed, and light burst out of her staff. With a sweeping motion, she directed this new beam of energy toward the portal. Goosebumps prickled the back of Ford’s neck as the machine roared back to life. She was powering it with _her own energy_ , Ford soon understood. Her face grew slick with sweat, and her screams soon turned to raspy sounds of pain.

Ford would not have a better chance. He raised both guns, aiming for her back. Still, he hesitated to pull the trigger. What stayed his hand? It was both difficult and easy to explain.

Thirty years ago, would he have found himself in her shoes? Would he have been the one to sacrifice his lifeforce to bring back someone who delighted in his torment?

Ford could not give an honest answer.

“Why are you doing all of this?” he finally asked, lowering his guns. “Just what are you hoping to achieve?”

She found enough energy to give him a hateful scowl. “You know why I’m doing this! Once the Master is back, I’ll be, I’ll be—”

“He doesn’t care about you,” Ford said, firmly. “He doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

“ _No!_ ” she shrieked—and yes, Ford could hear that discordant note in her voice again. “All these years I’ve toiled—I’ve _suffered_ —to be worthy of him. But he's never looked my way… he’s never looked at me the way he looked at _you!_ ” She managed a laugh. “Now he’ll see, now he’ll understand that you’re not any more _special_ than I am! You’re not destined for greatness, you’re just—”

“A man?” Ford prompted. “Yes, I know. And I’m very fine with that. You don’t have to be special to be _important_. To be worthy of being _loved_.” He put one of his guns back into its holster, then held out a hand toward her. “I know what you’re going through. I know it’s hard to break free of his influence, but you don’t need him. You’ll be _stronger_ without him.”

“You don’t understand!” Malakh screamed. This time, pure naked fear showed on her face. “When he’ll come back and see that I’ve failed to aid in his return, then, _then_ —” She shrieked again, holding her head with one hand. “I still have one eye, I still have one eye, and he’ll take it. _He’ll take it!_ ”

“I’m sorry,” Ford said. “Sorry that he hurt you that way. He… he hurt me too.” He remembered waking up to find his hands covered in blood, his right eye swollen and throbbing with pain. “Once upon a time, he must have said that you were special. That you were important, that you would change the world…”

“Shut up! SHUT UP!”

“But those were all lies. He didn’t care about any of us.” Ford took a tentative step toward her. “He just saw us as _puppets_.”

“No… you’re lying, you’re _lying!_ ”

“You’re not special,” Ford continued. “And neither am I. And that’s okay.”

Malakh looked at him, single eye wide and fearful. Her hand tightened around her staff.

“So _please_.” Ford could not fight back a sob. “Let _Stan_ go. He’s my brother, my twin. _Please_.”

“No… _NO!_ ”

With that last scream, Malakh raised her staff above her head, calling once more on her powers. Behind her, the portal flared with a sudden burst of energy. Ford fought to keep his feet on the ground.

“Stop it!” he cried. “Please, I beg you!”

There was another flash of light. Ford summoned all of his strength to move forward, but the sheer amount of power coming off her in waves pinned him into place. He fired several shots at her, but the blue projectiles bounced uselessly off her shield. He tried to cast a spell, but the pieces of paper burst into flames the moment he called on the magic infused within the ink.

Ford reached, futilely, in front of him. The stairs were so _close_. Stanley was just a few feet away. A whimper—of exhaustion, of _grief_ —escaped Ford’s mouth. That was it. He had failed Stan. He had broken his promise to the children. He had been unable to bring their beloved uncle back to them. Again, Ford was going to see his brother’s mind be destroyed, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, to no one in particular. “ _I’m sorry_.”

His knees were about to give way under him when he felt a sudden presence behind him. A _warm_ , comforting presence. In half a second, a tall, domineering figure was standing at Ford’s side. It was a lady clad in purple, her seven-eyed gaze never leaving Malakh’s form.

“You…” Ford breathed, disbelieving. “You are…”

A hint of a smile played on Jheselbraum’s lips as both of her hands burst with magical energy. “Hello, Stanford Pines. It’s so nice to see you again.”


	23. Chapter 23

Something burned within Ford as he returned the Oracle’s soft, almost mischievous smile. Something he had only very recently rediscovered in an existence mostly filled with grim solitude.

Something called _hope_.

Laughter bubbled out of his mouth. Ford seemed half mad, and _he just didn’t care_. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you!” By God, he sounded like a giddy schoolboy instead of a sixty-year-old man—and yet, he couldn’t care less. “I thought… well, I feared the worst!”

She tilted her head a little. “I should be thanking you for sending your niece and nephew to save me. They are delightful, by the way.”

The moment those words left her mouth, two smaller figures irrupted from behind her. Mabel’s eyes were twinkling with a manic energy reminiscent of her uncle Stan, while Dipper simply stared, slack-jawed, at the tall, commandeering figure of the Oracle.

“Of course we are!” Mabel said. “But Grunkle Ford already knew that, didn’t he?”

Ford quirked an eyebrow, which made her giggle. Before he could say anything else, however, he was interrupted by a loud, fearful cry.

“No!” said Malakh. “No, no, no, not you, _not you!_ ”

She flung a bolt of energy toward Jheselbraum with the tip of her staff. In response, the Oracle traced a magical symbol, diverting the lightning away from herself. Malakh froze, clinging to her staff as if it was the only thing keeping her upright.

“Yes, I have come for you, dear child,” Jheselbraum said, extending her hands forward. “Everything will be alright…”

Malakh growled, making a wide motion with her staff. The Oracle deflected her second attack with a single swat of a hand. Malakh grew paler, and her legs started to shake.

“She’s having trouble powering the portal and fighting all at once,” Ford muttered. “Isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Jheselbraum ground out, diverting another spell. Sweat was pearling at her brow. “Go to him, quickly! Before it’s too late!”

There was another loud cracking sound, and a bolt of blue lightning missed Ford by an inch, making his hair even frizzlier than usual. Next to Ford, Dipper let out a panicked little laugh.

“I did it…” the boy said, hand still raised, journal clutched under his other arm. “I drew the energy away from Grunkle Ford!”

Ford grinned at his nephew. “Amazing, my boy!”

Dipper chuckled nervously at the praise. His smile turned sour, however, when another burst of energy exploded right at his feet.

“Oh, boy!” Mabel wheezed. “I thought being in the middle of a wizard duel would be more fun than this!”

“Jheselbraum’s right!” Ford shouted above the chaos. “We need to get to Stanley!”

They rushed up the stairs, Dipper deflecting the attacks that a now enraged Malakh was sending their ways. In a way, it was just like avoiding the sustained fire of an angry mob with laser guns, and Ford had done the latter more often than he could count.

Finally, Ford reached his brother’s side. Up close, the right half of Stan’s face was even worse. Ford’s stomach turned when he realized what they must have done to cause such an injury. _His eye_ , _what have they done to his eye?_

Ford took up his laser cutter, slicing the metal restraints and freeing his brother. Stan made no sound as Ford took him into his arms. His blood turned to ice in his veins; _Stanley wasn’t even breathing._

“No, no, no,” Ford whispered as he checked Stan’s pulse. There wasn’t one. “Oh, god, please, _no_ …”

Someone next to him gave a soft, pained gasp, which was followed by a sob. Mabel had both of her hands over her mouth, and she was trembling from head to toe. Dipper was kneeling by Ford’s side, babbling, “What’s wrong with him? Why isn’t he moving, _why isn’t he breathing?_ He can’t be, that makes no sense, no, no, _no_ …”

His sister grabbed Stan’s other hand, tears streaking her cheeks. “Not again, not again. Please don’t leave us again, Grunkle Stan! Come back, _come back!_ ”

Stanley stayed deaf to their pleas.

* * *

Stan hung in the air, hovering midpoint between the _thing_ that had once been his body and the great gaping mouth of the portal. It was an oddly comforting sensation, like being rocked by the sways of the waves. How he’d loved swimming in the sea as a boy. It was those long days spent soaking in seawater that had made him want to become a sailor. Stan’s mouth twitched into a wistful grin. At least he’d fulfilled that dream, if only for a little while.

He peered behind him. The stars shining from behind the portal were beautiful, in an inviting way. That was something else he’d adored as a child. Ford, ever the little nerd, had learned all the constellations, and he’d taught them to Stan on the rare evenings they’d been allowed to break curfew. Back on the _Stan O’War II_ , they had spent many nights stargazing, a glass of whisky in hand. Stan’s smile grew a little fonder.

 _So?_ said the Axolotl, and Stan startled a little. He had been so absorbed by his contemplation of the stars that he had forgotten about the pink creature. _Are you ready to go?_

“Yep,” said Stan. “Thanks, by the way. I guess… not being alone makes it easier, yeah?”

_I’ve been with you a long time, Stanley Pines. In case you wanted to call on me._

“Huh.” Stan recalled his pet salamander, how it had been a constant presence for almost thirty years. “Makes sense. It’s like I said to Ford. I was survivin’ back then, not livin’.”

_It changed recently, didn’t it? That’s why I left. You didn’t need me anymore._

Stan could have laughed. He could have _cried_. “Yeah. It changed, it did.”

He turned to leave and then—

 _STANLEY!_ a familiar voice screamed.

Stan frowned. Wait, at the edge of his vision, was that…

“Stanford?” It almost felt as if—for a split second—he’d seen a ghostly version of Ford soaring toward him, hand outstretched. “Wait… where is your voice coming from…?”

He was only rewarded with silence.

* * *

The children were crying. Spells fizzled and exploded in hundreds of sparks below, while the portal continued to hum ominously above their heads; Ford’s hair stood on end as gravity began to weaken. The more energy Malakh supplied the machine, the more instable it would become. Staying so close was definitely unwise.

Ford processed this information with a surprising lack of emotion. Mabel was wailing, face buried in the crook of his shoulder, while Dipper rocked back and forth on his spot, holding his head in his hands. Of course they were panicking. Those two were the strongest, kindest, most _wonderful_ people Ford had ever met, but they were also only _children_.

Ford simply watched them, mind still reeling. He was holding _his brother’s corpse_ , but he knew he couldn’t give in to grief just yet. The children were counting on him. Stan was counting on him. Ford’s high school dropout brother had taught himself quantum physics to save his twin. His twelve-year-old niece and nephew had battled the demons of the Apocalypse to save their uncle. Ford could do the same, _would_ do the same.

A sort of madness took over him, the manic realization that he could stand before the god of death himself and _scream_ in that bastard’s face. Stan had surely felt this, the moment he’d decided to face Bill Cipher to protect their family. Yes, Ford was certain of it; it was the urge to _revolt_ against the cruel whims of life, an urge not fuelled by rage but by love.

Ford racked his brain, aware that the solution was certainly hiding in some dark recesses of his mind. He examined memories, processed theories, cast aside possibilities. Ford Pines was not the man who would change the world, no… but could he be the man to defy death itself?

The Oracle had retained hope, and more than anything Ford clung to that. _Go to him, quickly!_ she’d told him. _Before it’s too late!_

Those words were reminiscent of something else she’d said. Something she’d _fought_ to say, even as her body was failing her. His mind strained to remember, but Ford grit his teeth and yanked that memory back from the dark, foggy depths of forgetfulness.

_Remember, when he is about to pass on to the next world, reach out for his hand._

She’d pleaded—for him to heed her words, yes, but also to ask for Ford’s forgiveness. She’d wanted him to forgive Stan—because she believed he could still be saved.

Ford frowned, taking a better look at his surroundings—he was in the centre of a storm of lights, colours and sounds. He remembered this place, this moment. He remembered Stan’s scarred face, and words whispered in sad resignation.

_Maybe it’s better this way…_

And then it all became clear in Ford’s mind.

“Dipper!” he cried. The boy snapped his gaze upward, still looking on the verge of hyperventilating. “Dipper, my boy, calm down, _calm down_ , listen to my voice…”

Dipper gave fast little nods. Ford gestured at him to come closer, patting the boy’s head and using his other hand to bring Mabel closer. She hiccupped as he began to rub her back. Still, her tensions were easing, and soon her sobs grew quieter.

“I know how to save Stan,” Ford told Dipper, as calmly as he could, “but I need your help to do so. I need you to cast a spell for me. Do you think you could do that for me, Dipper?”

The boy sniffed, wiping his nose with his sleeve. A few seconds later, and Dipper’s shoulders had stopped shaking. “A spell? Well, I think there’s enough energy around that I can divert b-back to me, but… what do you want me to do?”

Ford directed his gaze toward the portal. “I know it’s going to sound insane, but…” He managed a slight smile. “Trust me. Just… _trust me_.”

* * *

“Stanford?” Stan called again. “S’that you? Are you th— _oh_.”

His eyes (dammit, no! his _eye_ , his one, single, goddamned _eye!_ ) found the platform below him. Three people were huddled around Stan’s… well, Stan’s _corpse_. Ford was alive, then, he was alive and _unharmed_ , from the looks of it. So were the kids. They were alive and well and _they had come for Stan._

It took Stan an eternity to force his mouth to say coherent words. “They came,” he said, softly. “They really came for me.”

 _Of course they did_ , said Axolotl. _Isn’t it sweet?_

If he’d still possessed a body, Stan would probably have felt a dull pang to his chest. “They don’t know, do they? About me. About _what I am_. They wouldn’t have come otherwise…”

_Why are you so sure of that?_

Stan ignored Axolotl’s question. Ford was checking the pulse of his discarded meat sack. The children hovered near, and Stan was in prime position to watch their breakdown. Mabel sobbed as she tugged and tugged on Ford’s sleeve; Stan could not hear her cries, but he could read her lips. _Please, please, please!_ she said, over and over. Dipper clutched at Ford’s coat, making wide gestures. Stan knew the boy like the back of his hand; he recognized the warning signs of a panic attack.

Those two were the strongest, kindest, most _wonderful_ people Stan had ever met. They were also only children.

Stan reached toward them, but, of course, it was futile. Every second he drifted a little further, toward the peace promised by Axolotl.

“Can I get to say goodbye?” Stan said. He hated how _desperate_ he sounded.

Axolotl tilted his head. _I don’t think so. It’s too late already._ Taking note of Stan’s growing distress, he added, as if _that_ would help, _A lot of people die scared or angry. A lot of them pass on without fulfilling their goals or saying goodbye to their loved ones. It won’t be any different with you._

Stan hung down his head. “Okay,” he said. “Maybe it’s better this way…”

 _There you go!_ Axolotl said in a disgustingly cheerful voice. _If it helps, I’ll make sure you’re a twin in your next life as well. That worked out nicely in this one, didn’t it?_

Stan turned his eyes to Ford. His brother was soldiering on, mouth set in a grim line. Of course he had to stay steadfast as a rock; the children were counting on him. Stan smiled. At least, he knew the little gremlins would be in good hands. At least he’d had a few precious months where he had his best friend back.

“Why does it matter what I want?” Stan said. “D’you think someone like _me_ deserves to be happy?”

 _If you say so_ , Axolotl conceded, sounding rather nonplussed. _Let’s go, then!_

Stan turned his face toward the portal. A gentle force was pulling him toward the ocean of stars, and Axolotl hovered above, patient as ever. Stan’s lips formed a rueful smile; that didn’t seem so bad, did it?

He tried not to dwell too much on the anguish he’d spied on the children’s faces. He tried not to dwell too much on the fact that his one and only twin would be left without a best friend— _again_. Stan had to let go, just _let go_ —

Something grabbed his hand, and he was yanked backward for a moment.

* * *

Ford held on Stan’s ghostly hand, tightly, like his life depended on it.

Well, maybe it did. Even though Ford currently weighted nothing, he could feel the pull of the portal keenly. How did that work, exactly? The rational, scientifically inclined side of Ford’s brain boggled at the implication.

“I got you, buddy!” Ford said through grit teeth. How could one strain with effort with no body? “Hold on!”

“Wait, what?” Stan said. “S-Stanford? How…?” His eye widened when he caught side of what was happening on the platform below. “Holy shit! Your… your body…”

Ford waved a hand around. “Yes, yes, I’ve had Dipper astrally project my mind out of my body with magic. We used that spell not long ago to contact—” Ford frowned, suddenly realizing that he was rambling, and that time was running out. “It’s not important right now! Come on, Stan! Work with me, will you!”

“But… but…” Stan looked behind, seemingly confused. “Wait, he’s _gone_. Where’s…”

“What? Who’s gone?”

“It’s not,” Stan muttered, “it’s not important. Why are you here?”

“To save you, of course! Why would you even ask?”

“Yeah, well…” Stan’s face twisted with pain. “Listen, what if… what if I don’t deserve it? What if it’d be better to just let me—”

Ford tugged harder. “Don’t you dare start with that kind of talk, Stanley Pines. There are two children back there who will be brokenhearted if you don’t go back to them.”

Stan shook his head. “They’ll be better off without me. _You’ll_ be better off without me. Trust me, I’m not the guy you think I am, I’m not—”

“I know who you are, Stan, you’re—”

“No, you don’t,” Stan said, in a precipitated manner. “I know the sappy stuff that’s gonna come out of your mouth, and it’s not true. You don’t know what I am. What I _did_. To you, to the kids, _to all those damned people I don’t even know_ —”

“I _do_ know the truth,” Ford replied, firmly. “So do the kids.”

“No,” Stan said, “you wouldn’t have come otherwise, if you knew, you’d just _hate_ me, you’d want me to die—”

“We know the truth, and we can to save you anyway. Do you want to know why?” Ford smiled at his brother. “Do you want the sappy, stupid reason why we fought a bunch of evil cultists to get you back?”

Stan remained silent. There was something heartbreaking about his expression. It was the look, full of suspicion and bitterness, of a mistreated dog who didn’t know whether or not he should accept the hand reaching out to pat his head.

“You’re our Stan, and not anyone else,” Ford said. “You’re _nothing_ like him.”

“You said I reminded you of him,” Stan blurted out. “You said I reminded you of Bill Cipher.”

Ford nearly wanted to laugh out loud; _god_ , his nerves were shot. “And yet you’re nothing like him! I know this because of the choices you made! Because of the things you think are worth cherishing! Because you’ve sacrificed your own happiness and wellbeing for the people you love, _over and over again!_ Don’t you realize? Your existence is unique across the multiverse! No one else has lived the life that you’ve had!”

“You… you really think that?”

This time, Ford did laugh. “Stan, I’m about as emotionally constipated as you! Do you think I’m savvy enough to lie to your face about something as important as this?”

A strange sound, half a sob, half a snort, escaped Stan’s mouth. “Emotionally constipated? Ex- _cuse_ me, sir, compared to you, I’m about as emotionally open as the dumb guys on those telenovas Soos’ grandma likes so much.”

“You mean the telenovas _you_ like so much,” Ford said. He smirked and added, “Don’t worry, the children will never know. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Oh my god,” Stan said, scowling. “Is it really the time to be busting my balls about that?”

Ford shot him a distressed look. “Stan, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” He stopped, however, when he caught sight of Stan’s expression. Not a second later, and both brothers were laughing, _madly_ , in a manner that would have made their sides ache had they been in their physical bodies.

How long did they stay there, hand in hand, laughing uproariously? Time seemed to still, if only to give them this moment.

Finally, Ford stopped laughing. He wiped tears off his eyes—wait, was he still crying, even out of his body? What a strange experience…

Stan smiled at him. Then, his brows knitted into a slight frown. “Wait a sec… are we still drifting?”

Ford’s own dopey grin immediately dissipated. He looked behind him, where Dipper and Mabel were huddled around his and Stan’s bodies. They seemed a little further away than they had been previously. “Oh, no,” he said. “Oh, no, no, _no_ …”

“What do we do, Ford?!” Stan said. “At this rate, we’ll—”

A strange, whooshing sound came from behind Ford, and something grabbed his hand. Ford startled, and he found himself staring at a familiar, braced-filled grin.

“Mabel to the rescue!” the girl exclaimed. “Thank goodness I got here in time!”

“Sweetie, _no!_ ” Ford shouted in alarm. “You shouldn’t have come! It’s dangerous—” He stopped, finally noticing that her other hand was holding her grappling hook—or, rather, its manifestation in the immaterial realm. The magnetized hook held on fast to the metallic contraption where Stan’s body was lying, keeping her from drifting too far away.

“Wait, how did you manifest a grappling hook in spirit form?” Ford asked her.

“Well, Dipper told me I just had to think _really_ hard about having a grappling hook before going in,” she explained. “As he said, if the clothes we wear in the real world appear when we’re in spirit form, why would it be any different for other objects?”

Ford laughed in delight. “Have I told you just how amazing you are? _Both_ of you?”

“Aww, I love you too, Grunkle Ford!”

“Why is it that we always get saved by a pair of thirteen-year-olds?” Stan muttered. “Are we _that_ dumb?”

“Maybe those thirteen-year-olds are just exceptional,” Ford said.

“Maybe it’s a bit of both!” Mabel said cheerfully, completely ignoring the wince Stan threw her way. Her little face grew serious. “Well, you can spend all the time you’d like praising me later, but right now we really should be _going_.”

Ford squeezed her hand. “Lead the way, my dear. Lead the way.”

* * *

Ford’s eyes snapped open. Where was he? What was this weight lying in his lap? Were those fireworks going off in the distance? Someone was shouting and—

Ford sat up so abruptly he nearly felt nauseous. Next to him, Dipper gave a little yelp.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” the boy sputtered. “You’re finally up— _both_ of you.”

“Both of…” Ford checked beside him; Mabel was rubbing her eyes, groaning all the while. In his arms, Stan had not moved. For a moment, Ford’s world seemed to crawl to a stop. He could still hear Jhelselbraum and Malakh fighting in the distance, and yet Ford didn’t care. _Stan was not moving._ Ford blinked back tears as he rocked his brother’s inert form.

Finally, _mercifully_ , Stan’s eye fluttered open. Ford found himself letting out a sound that was half a sob, half a laugh.

“Ugh,” Stan said with a wince. “Why am I waking up to _your_ ugly mug…”

Ford managed enough indignation to sputter, “ _That’s_ the first thing you say to me?! We’re… we’re identical twins, you moron!”

“GRUNKLE STAN!” both children exclaimed in unison.

Stan wheezed as the twins pounced on him. “ _Oof!_ S-Stop crying… all of you… ugh… don’t hug me… so tight… _can’t breathe_ …”

Of course Dipper and Mabel did not listen to him. They held on tight, sobs turning to laughter. Stan glanced at Ford, who smiled at him, as to say, ‘See? What did I tell you?’ Stan frowned, still looking unsure, but at least he returned the children’s embrace. Eventually, a contented smile formed on his lips.

This tender moment did not last. Ford was feeling a strange sort of weightlessness—one that was dreadfully familiar. His eyes snapped to the portal above, and his mouth grew dry.

“We’ve got to go!” he exclaimed, helping Stan to his feet. “All that energy… it’s making the portal too unstable!”

The children scrambled down the stairs, yelping as the portal pulled them away from the steps. Ford managed to catch Dipper and Mabel under one arm before they could drift away. In his other arm, he clutched Stanley, not willing to let go.

“Hang on to me!” Ford shouted. “Mabel, we’ll use your grappling hook and my boots to get us away from the portal!”

She nodded, firing toward a column on the outermost part of the hall. The grappling hook strained to pull their weights forward. Cursing through grit teeth, Ford engaged his rocket boots to give them the necessary boost to get out of the portal’s range. They soared past Jheselbraum and Malakh, the two women still lost in the frenzy of their fight.

Then a booming sound tore through the room, and Ford felt the heat of the explosion pushing them beyond the column—pushing them right outside the temple, hundreds of feet in the air. The children screamed, and Ford’s heart leaped in his mouth.

Once again, Stanford Pines was plummeting to his death alongside his family.

This time, however, Ford absolutely refused to accept this cruel turn of events.

Ford crushed the children and Stan to his chest, burning every last ounce of energy still stored within his boots to launch them back to the tower. The boots sputtered and struggled, and heat flared around Ford’s feet. He screamed, but refused to open his arms. Finally, _mercifully_ , the four of them hit solid ground, landing in a crumpled heap on the top part of the tower. Ford could not stop shaking, but he held on tight to Stan and the twins.

Smoke filled the hall, the dark haze sometimes lit by flashes of lightning coming off the remains of the portal. With some difficulty, Ford spied the figures of two women. Malakh was hunched over, hacking and wheezing, supporting herself with her staff. Jheselbraum was kneeling on the ground, panting heavily.

She was the first to move, advancing toward Malakh with halting steps. The green-skinned priestess snarled, holding her staff forward. Her legs gave way under her, and she toppled to the ground. Jheselbraum rushed forward to catch the younger woman in her fall.

“Don’t touch me!” Malakh shrieked. She scratched at Jheselbraum, fighting her embrace. “Get away from me!”

“Shh,” the Oracle said simply, caressing Malakh’s long, messy hair. “It’s alright, child, it’s alright.”

“Don’t you dare!” Malakh growled in response. “I don’t need your pity!”

“Then you do not have it,” said Jheselbraum. “You have, however, the full extent of my forgiveness.”

Malakh stopped pushing her away, evidently exhausted. Still, she let out a piercing, keening wail that rippled through the room. Jheselbraum patted her back, easing them both to the ground.

A weight seemed to have been lifted off Ford’s shoulders. The husk of the portal should have filled him with dread and despair. He should have screamed and sobbed and raged. Yet, he only found himself sitting contently on the ground, arms wrapped around his family.

“The portal,” Stan muttered, breaking the spellbound moment. “It’s gone. You… you guys can’t go home.” _Because of me._ Stan hadn’t said it, but the words were evident in the sorrowful expression showing on his face.

Ford smiled at him. “As you well know, Stanley, portals can be repaired. Your life, however, is irreplaceable.”

For a moment, Ford’s brother only looked at him in silence. Then, he turned his face away and started to sob. Ford and the children held on to him; words were no longer necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As I might have said before, a lot of scenes in this fic were inspired by music I was listening to while writing. This chapter as a whole is pretty much an homage to this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ykLuBUPybI).


	24. Chapter 24

Jill Dryer returned to the Mystery Shack one morning to find half of her team gone.

To say she was furious when her missing subordinates slunk back to base, proverbial tails tucked between their legs, would be putting it mildly. Many were sporting injuries: black eyes, bruises, even a concussion or two. Apparently, they had somehow lost a _car_. Dryer grilled them on the events of the previous night, but their recollections remained spotty. After a while, she threw in the towel and sent the wounded away to be treated, but not before gesturing at Blauer to follow her inside.

“Sit, _now_ ,” she told him when they were alone in the office she’d requisitioned. “Blauer, what on Earth is going on? What’s this about you camping out at some motel out of town? And why did you not request immediate medical aid for these people?”

Blauer stared blankly at her for a moment. Then, his usual scowl returned full force. “ _That’s_ what gets you all riled up? We were _assaulted!_ Don’t you want to find the ones responsible?”

“It’s a concern of mine, yes, but the safety of our team comes first. Now, _talk_. Who attacked you? And why?”

“We don’t have time for this!” Blauer said. “We have to catch those damned kids! And those freaks in the forest!”

“Get a grip, Blauer,” Dryer said. “You’re not making any sense, and I’m losing my patience.”

Her words were firm, but in truth she felt a hint of dread; over the last days, she had followed a hunch and had started studying the security tapes of the gift shop. Dryer knew she was close to a breakthrough. If that idiot Blauer had shot her chances just to antagonize the townspeople, then… well, it made her want to scream at the top of her lungs and tear her hair out.

“Ugh!” Blauer jumped out of his chair, pointing at her. “I was right! Those stupid townies are all hiding something, and they attacked us when we found out the truth! We need to call in reinforcement, bring in the big guns. _Hell_ , even the army if necessary!”

“The ‘stupid townies’, as you called them, attacked you?” Dryer said, raising an eyebrow. “And you lost?”

“No! No, no, no, they had help, from the creatures of the forests! Gnomes and unicorns and those freakish giant manbull men! It was an ambush, they tricked us! It’s the truth, I swear it!”

“Unicorns,” Dryer repeated. “And manbull men.”

Blauer slammed the table with both hands. “Yes! I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve seen them!”

“Why did none of the other agents mention this?”

Blauer’s face went slack. “Well…”

“Do you have any evidence? Pictures, maybe? Those are quite the claims you’re making, Blauer.”

Blauer gave her another blank stare. Then, he snarled, “You bitch! You don’t even believe me!”

Dryer left her chair, motioning him toward the door. “Alright, we’re done here. We’ll speak when you have a clearer head.”

“A clearer head?!” Blauer grabbed her by the shoulders. “My head’s clearer than ever, now that I know just how much we’ve been played! We have to—”

“Get your hands off of me,” Dryer said, coldly. “Don’t dig yourself deeper, Blauer.”

“Ma’am!” a voice said, suddenly. One of her agents was at the door, looking rather agitated. “You’ve got to come, quickly!”

Dryer glanced back at Blauer, who had gone paler. “Alright. Blauer, you come with me.”

“No,” he said, all of his previous bravado completely gone, “I think I should—”

“This was an order, not a request,” she snapped.

He stumbled after her without a word as the other agent led them to the main entrance of the Mystery Shack. A crowd was waiting for them outside. Dryer recognized some faces staring back at her: young Melody Ramos, the diminutive mayor (Tyler, was it?), the owner of the local diner, and many others. Dryer realized with a start that most of the town had come.

“Good morning,” she told the citizens of Gravity Falls. “Can I help you?”

Melody exchanged a glance with the mayor, who nodded. The man came forward.

“Well, we’re all dreadfully sorry to trouble you this fine morning,” he began, “but I’m here to present something on behalf of the citizens of Gravity Falls.” He offered a pile of papers to Dryer. It seemed to be a list of names and signatures. “It’s a petition. Closing the Mystery Shack, well… it’s affected all of us, you see? You evicted a family from their home. We all love the Ramirezes, they’ve good friends to everyone here in Gravity Falls.” There were murmurs of assent at his words, and Melody gave him a grateful smile.

“Closing the Shack, it hurt the whole town, too,” the mayor continued. “Susan here says that she had fewer clients than usual at the diner. Same for every shop downtown.” He gestured at the rundown shack standing before him. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but the Mystery Shack has been a constant fixture in town for thirty years. Some might say it’s the living, beating heart of Gravity Falls.”

“Oh, _please_ ,” Blauer muttered next to Dryer. She glared at him. In response, he threw his hands in the air. “You think a _petition_ is enough to make us stop our investigation? How stupid do you people think we are?”

His words prompted exclamations of anger from the crowd, but Melody shushed them. “I know,” she said. “That’s why we’re also suing you.”

Blauer blinked. “I… I beg your pardon?”

Melody nodded, handing Dryer another— _thicker_ —stack of papers. “Everything’s been compiled by a well-known law firm in Portland. They’ve gone through all the necessary hoops, don’t worry.”

Dryer took the pile of documents, still not saying a word. She perused them with a frown. “You know your stuff,” Dryer told the girl after reading the introductory pages.

“I studied law for a bit before coming here,” Melody said, sheepishly. “My mom helped me with the rest. She, uh, runs the law firm in Portland I was talking about.”

“They can’t do that!” Blauer hissed to Dryer. He pointed at the crowd, voice growing louder with each word, “Those lunatics _assaulted_ me! You can’t let them get away with this!”

Melody’s frown deepened as he finished his tirade. “Oh, yes, that reminds me. I haven’t started the necessary preparation yet, but we’ll be suing you for something else.”

“Something else?” the mayor said, while the rest of the town exchanged confused murmurs.

Melody glared at Blauer. “This man put a child in danger last night. He kidnapped a fourteen-year-old girl with the intent of extorting information from her. That counts as a wrongful or negligent act under the FTCA.” Under her breath, she added, “Or so my mother says.”

The crowd _erupted_ in outrage, while Dryer whirled toward Blauer. “You _what?_ ” she said, voice hoarse with horror.

Blauer held up his hands, face twisting in a grimace. “You’re really going to believe those yokels over me, Dryer? The girl went with me willingly! It’s not my fault she’s lying to paint herself as a victim!”

Dryer stared at him, at a loss for words. The man’s face was tomato red, and sweat was beading on his brow. He was looking more deluded by the second.

“The moment we had our backs turned,” he continued, “that kid sicced her friends and those freaky _things_ on us! They took us out, one by one!” Blauer pointed at his scalp. “That old hillbilly attacked me with his banjo! Knocked me out! He’s a menace to society, I want him behind bars, _behind bars_ , you hear me?!”

Dryer goggled at him. The rest of her team gave her blank stares. Clearly she wasn’t the only one who was perturbed by Blauer’s meltdown.

“Banner, Carpenter, take him into custody,” Dryer said, beyond disturbed by her subordinate’s conduct. “Agent Blauer… might be in shock, I think.”

“In shock? _In shock?_ My mind’s never been clearer! I’ve seen it now, this town’s dark, secret side! I’m awake, and you’re the one who keeps her eyes shut! You’ll be sorry, Dryer, one day you’ll be sorry!”

The two other agents dragged him kicking and screaming toward one of the cars. The people of Gravity Falls watched him go with the same slack-jawed bafflement as the rest of Dryer’s team. Even after the car had sped off, an awkward silence hung in the morning air. It wasn’t every day that you saw an agent of the US government devolve to frothing-at-the-mouth insanity.

Dryer sighed, rubbing her temple. A headache was creeping close, she was sure of it. “People of Gravity Falls,” she addressed the crowd, “I have to apologize for my colleague’s horrible, well… _behaviour_.”

“Is that what we call it, now?” a young voice called from the crowd. “Horrible _behaviour?_ ”

“He put a _child_ in danger!” someone else cried out.

“Let me assure you, we will deal with him in an appropriate manner.” Dryer paused, inhaling deeply before adding, “And we will drop this investigation, and allow the Ramirez family to move back to the Mystery Shack. That I promise you.”

At first, everything remained quiet. Then, defeaning cheers rippled through the air. People crowded around Melody, giving her hugs and congratulations. The girl blushed, deflecting their compliments.

When the celebration died down a little, Dryer came to see her. “Ms. Ramos? I’d like a few words, if you’re available.”

“Of course,” Melody said with a slight frown.

Dryer took her aside, far enough so others wouldn’t hear them. “I simply want to offer my deepest apologies, Ms. Ramos,” Dryer began. “As I told your partner, rest assured you will be duly compensated for your troubles.”

“Well, I hope so,” Melody said, a bit bluntly.

Dryer fought back a snort. _Touché_ , she thought. “You said you studied law in university?” she asked, gesturing at the ‘Mystery Shack’ sign perched on the roof. “Bit of a change in career, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘studied’.” Melody’s cheeks went pink. “I did just one year, and… well, I enjoyed my classes, but the pressure was just too much, you know? I decided to spend the summer away doing something else to change my mind a bit. That’s when I went to Gravity Falls.”

“And met young Mr. Ramirez?”

Melody’s blush grew deeper, and she twirled a strand of hair around a finger. “And met Soos, yes.”

“Do you believe in the supernatural, Ms. Ramos?”

Melody blinked, then smiled. “Of course not. That’s crazy.”

Dryer considered the young woman’s words. It was the same answer her boyfriend had given—but she’d said it a little too quickly, a little too stiffly. Melody Ramos might have been shrewder than her sweet-natured partner, but he’d practised his lies better.

Of course he had; if Dryer’s hunch was correct, then he’d dealt with that sort of things far longer than she had.

“I still don’t understand,” Dryer prodded. “It doesn’t seem such a good fit for a serious young lady such as yourself.”

“Serious? Is that how I come across?” Melody smiled. “I just like what the Mystery Shack does to people. It breaks a bit of their monotony, it gets them to dream about things beyond our understanding. It reminds them of being a kid, of wanting to discover the world. That kind of stuff.”

“Your boyfriend said the same thing,” Dryer said. Those two youngsters were so candid, it was almost amusing. Endearing, even.

“Did he now? Doesn’t surprise me. But I love it here. There’s a sense of community. Like, we’re all so different, but we stick together, no matter what.” Melody's smile grew a bit shy. “I sound sappy, don’t I?”

“No,” Dryer assured her. “You seem happy, and that’s what is important. I’m sorry to have caused such trouble. I will hand in my resignation once we’ve put everything back to its proper place.”

“Hand in your resignation? Isn’t it a bit, um, overkill?”

“No. I’ve absolutely botched this operation. People with the kind of power at my disposal should be more careful with it. Or people will get hurt as a result.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Melody said. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

“I’ll arrange for the retreat of my agents,” Dryer said. “Everything will be back the way that it was, don’t worry.”

Melody nodded. “Good. Glad you’re willing to work in good faith. I’ll drop the charges once you’ve uphold your side of the bargain.” Her tone was light, but her smile was a bit forced, showing that all was not quite forgiven. “Um, can I go now? I have to tell Soos the news.”

“Of course,” Dryer said. She held out her hand. “Thank you, Ms. Ramos. Good luck with that business of yours.”

Melody shook Dryer’s hand. “Goodbye, Ms. Dryer.”

Dryer watched the girl go, certain of two things: one, that her career had come to a disappointing, but well-deserved end.

And two—much as she hated to agree with that raving madman Blauer—that the people of Gravity Falls _definitely_ had something to hide.

Dryer sighed, taking her wallet in hand. She found herself staring back and forth at her government ID and the picture of her daughter. Gnomes, unicorns and other mystic creatures of the forest. Ana would have eaten up those stories… and so would have her mother, a long time ago. Dryer put her wallet back in her pocket, glancing toward the entrance of the gift shop.

Time for one final gamble, then.

* * *

Dipper woke up to a flurry of sounds—and with a lingering headache.

He glanced at the cot next to his, realizing that Mabel was already gone. With a yawn, Dipper went out of the room assigned to him and his sister. The main hall of the temple was bustling with activity. People of the rebellion cared for the wounded and brought members of the Eye of Dawn to temporary holding cells. Dipper was amused to see that idiot Tappaz being dragged by two burly rebels; the yellow-robed priest kept yelling about how _important_ he was, about how disgraceful it was that he was treated that way, but no one seemed to be listening.

Mabel was distributing bowls of soup to the people getting treatment in the makeshift medical ward. Dipper recognized many of the unfortunate prisoners they had freed from the depths of the Temple of Dawn. They smiled wanly at Dipper’s sister as she bounced from one patient to the other like a hyperactive, sweater-wearing bee. Mabel’s grin grew wider when she caught sight of him.

“Finally you’re up, sleepyhead!” she said, sauntering over to him.

“Can you blame me for sleeping in?” Dipper replied. “It’s the first times in weeks I’ve slept on a real mattress.” It was the first time he’d slept soundly without any nightmare to trouble him, but he did not say it out loud. He figured Mabel would already know anyway. “I’m kinda surprised you didn’t jump on the occasion too.”

Mabel waved her hand around. “Oh, you know… I woke up early and I wanted to check on Grunkle Ford and Grunkle Stan.”

Dipper’s smile instantly evaporated. “Grunkle Ford and Grunkle Stan,” he repeated. “Are they…?”

“They’re alright, don’t worry, you silly.” Mabel took his hand. “They’re still sleeping. C’mon, we can go visit them if you want?”

She led him by the hand, through the crowded hall and into the circular stairwell leading to the tower. Their uncles had been given a more secluded room, away from the constant coming and going of other people. Stan was lying in a cot, deeply asleep. Grunkle Ford had said they had saved him just in time; he’d been d— _gone_ for no more than a few minutes when they had reached him, which meant he would have no lasting repercussion from his out-of-body experience. The wound on Stan’s face had been cleaned, and Kyan had done his best to make sure there wouldn’t be any significant scarring. Still, Dipper felt a pang at the sight of the bandage covering half his face. Nothing could be done about Grunkle Stan’s eye. Dipper glanced away, not wanting to address this particular hurdle right now.

There was a second cot, but it was empty. Grunkle Ford was instead sitting by his twin’s bed, also sleeping. He was holding Stan’s hand, resting his head next to his brother’s shoulder.

“I think they fell asleep like that,” Mabel whispered to Dipper. “Cute, isn’t it?”

Dipper smiled at her, squeezing her hand. “Yeah. We should let them rest, I think.”

After a light breakfast, they spent the rest of the morning helping out wherever they could. People protested at first, telling them they had earned a well-earned rest for their heroics of the prior day. Still, Dipper and his sister persisted, and soon they were offering relief (and a big, bright smile, on Mabel’s part) to the people in the makeshift medical ward. Soon enough, they reached a certain family.

“Dipper, Mabel!” Zuri called out, waving at them. Her brother was sitting nearby, next to the two beds where their parents were lying. “Over here!”

“Hey, you two!” Mabel said. “How are you feeling?”

Zuri glanced at her brother, who was tending to their mother. The woman ate her stew with trembling hands, but she greeted Dipper and Mabel with a smile. Kyan and Zuri’s father seemed to be still asleep. There was no line creasing his brow; he appeared completely content in his slumber, free of pain.

“Everything’s fine,” Kyan answered Mabel’s question. “You’re starting to feel better, right, Mom?”

“Y-Y-Yes,” the woman said, with great difficulty. “T-T-Than… t-t-than…” Her smile turned sheepish as she found herself unable to continue. Kyan simply patted her hands with a smile of his own.

“Zuri, can you watch over Mom and Dad?” he asked his sister. “I’d like to talk to Dipper and Mabel.”

“Sure thing, lil’ bro.” Was it Dipper’s imagination or was there something twinkling in her eyes? Kyan’s cheeks seemed to have coloured too.

He took Dipper and Mabel aside, and he was silent for a while before he stuttered, “I just… you know… I just wanted to thank you. For… for all you did for us, I mean.”

Dipper scratched the back of his head. “Well, yeah, but… you guys helped too. You taught me magic and stuff, and you healed Grunkle Ford. We wouldn’t have made it that far without you and your sister.”

Okay, _now_ Kyan was blushing. What was going on? And why was Mabel _smirking?_

“W-Well, uh, that’s not…” Kyan stuttered. “It’s not much, I mean. You figured how to cast spells on your own. I was useless on that front, you know.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Dipper said, shrugging. “Maybe you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself.”

Kyan chuckled nervously. Still, he was smiling. “I guess so. Just have to take example on you, huh?”

“What?” Dipper said. Next to him, Mabel was lost in silent guffaws. Dipper stepped on her foot, but she seemed to want to laugh even _harder_.

“A-Anyway,” Kyan said, “I wanted to say that I’m sorry about your uncle being hurt. And about the portal too. You guys wanted so much to go home…”

Mabel stopped laughing. Dipper felt a pang to his chest, one dulled by resignation.

“Yeah,” he said. For a moment, he couldn’t say more. Then, he forced a smile on his lips and added, “But it’s like my uncle said. Portals can be repaired, right? And who knows, maybe we’ll manage to keep a way open between our worlds. I’m sure you guys would enjoy visiting Gravity Falls.”

“Really? I’d love to visit your world!”

“Yeah,” Dipper replied. “And if you guys ever come, you should meet our friends. For one, your sister would get along with my friend Wendy, I think.”

“It depends,” said a familiar voice. Zuri was approaching them. “Is she cute?”

“Oh, c’mon!” Kyan shoved his sister, and she laughed in response. “You’re the worst!”

Zuri grabbed him in a headlock. “And you’re a nerd.” She let him go, her smirk easing into a smile. “Dad just woke up. Asked for you.”

“He did?” Kyan’s face brightened, and he let out a laugh of relief. “By Twilight, I’m so glad…”

Mabel gave him a little push. “C’mon. Don’t waste time with us boring bores, go to your parents!”

“Thanks, Mabel.” Zuri saluted Dipper and Mabel. “Be seeing you, guys.”

“Yeah! See you soon!” Kyan said. “And thanks again!”

“No problem,” Dipper said, slightly amused.

“Say hello to your Mom and Dad for us!” Mabel replied as the two siblings walked away. She turned to her brother. “Is it time for dinner yet? ‘Cause I’m kind of starving.”

“Yeah,” Dipper agreed. “Let’s grab a bite.”

They went back to their room after making another visit to the lady tending to the food. Here, the chaos was a bit more muted. Dipper was glad for the little bit of nice and quiet.

Mabel eyed the grey sludge in her bowl dubiously. “Well, here goes, I guess. At least it won’t taste like carton like those rations did.”

“How do you know what carton tastes like?” Dipper said.

Mabel grimaced as she swallowed her mouthful. “Huh. Taste like modelling clay instead.”

“How do you know how—” Dipper shook his head. “Anyway, that’s not important right now. How are you holding up?”

Mabel stirred her stew in an absentminded manner. “Fine, I’d say. What about you, Dipper?”

“Could be better. It’s stupid, but I think I’ll feel better once Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford wake up. Like, they’ll say everything will be fine, and it’ll just _feel_ that way, you know?”

“Like it’ll be true?” Mabel completed. “Yeah, I get what you’re saying. It’s the same for me. It’s weird. We’re not little kids anymore, and yet...”

Dipper chuckled. “Oh, man. Never seen you being so… _introspective_. You sound so mature all of a sudden. Who are you and what did you do with my sister?”

“What? I am a very mature young lady, _sir_ , always have been, you scallywag, you!” Her wistful smile turned into a grin, and she elbowed him in the ribs. “What about you, huh? Deflecting those spells like it’s nobody’s business, looking all cool and stuff.”

“Cool?” It was stupid and childish, but Dipper felt a flutter of excitement. “You think I looked _cool_ back there?”

“Eh.” Mabel motioned with her hand. “Not like, _completely_ cool, more like, on the way to being cool. Like, ‘give it some thirty years’ cool.”

“Har har,” Dipper said, rolling his eyes.

“But, yeah, there’s hope for you yet. I mean, the ladies won’t ever drop at your feet, but—”

“ _Wow_. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“— _buuut_ some people are already starting to notice, you know?” And she winked at Dipper.

Dipper narrowed his eyes at her. “What’s _that_ even supposed to mean?”

“Well, someone told me he didn’t want anyone messing with his lovelife, _sooo_ …” And she returned to contemplating her stew in feigned interest.

“Mabel, please—” The truth suddenly struck Dipper, and his eyes widened. “Oh. _No_. No way.”

Mabel wiggled her eyebrows. “Yesh. Yesh way.”

“Kyan? You’re telling me that _Kyan_ has—”

“Myep. Pretty much. Absolutely. Certain of it. Do I need to go on?”

Dipper hid his face with both hands, hating how much his cheeks were flaring up right now. “That’s dumb. Kyan can’t— _people_ don’t have crushes on _me_. _Ever_.” Dipper had— _unrequited_ —crushes on other people. That was how things usually went.

“People _do_ have crushes on you!” Mabel said, poking her brother’s cheek. “There’s Pacifica, for one!”

“Pacifi—Mabel, you’re _crazy_. She doesn’t have a crush on me!” Dipper suddenly longed for a window through which he could jump—preferably to his doom.

“Alright. Don’t believe me, Mr. Sceptic. I won’t talk about it, if you prefer. Made a solemn promise to keep my nose out of your biz, after all.”

“Ugh,” Dipper said. After a while, he peered at Mabel through his fingers. “Pacifica, really? Yeah, _right_.”

“Aw, c’mon, brobro. What would Grunkle Stan say, hearing you say things like that?”

“Go for it, kid, she’s stupid rich,” Dipper replied, mimicking their uncle’s gravelly voice.

“No!” Mabel swatted at him. “Be confident! Be yourself! That’s what he would say!”

“He would, wouldn’t he?” Dipper’s weak chuckle was followed by a sigh. Mabel cuddled closer to him. “I mean, none of this really matters, right? It’s not exactly important right now. I’m not in the mood for that kind of thing, not with Grunkle Stan being, well…”

They were silent for a while. Then Mabel began, softly, “Yeah, this thing with Grunkle Stan, it’s… it’s freaking me out—like, for _real_.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“But it’s freaking _him_ more. You saw how he was, right? When we saved him? He must be so, _so_ scared. We gotta help him right now. That’s something grown-ups do, don’t they? They learn to live with their bad feelings to make sure everyone around them is safe and happy. I never noticed, but Mom and Dad do it all the time. And Grunkle Ford and Grunkle Stan too. I don’t mind supporting him, just so he can get better.” She glanced up at him. “What about you?”

Dipper managed a smile. “I feel the same. It’s just like you said. We’re not little kids anymore.” The words came out more bitter than he intended. “Teenagedom’s not what it’s cracked up to be, huh?”

“Nope,” said Mabel. “But everything’s gonna be fine. ‘Cause you’ve got me, and I’ve got you, see?”

“You sap,” Dipper said, rolling his eyes.

“And _proud_ of it. Awkward sibling side hug?”

Dipper wrapped an arm around her. “Awkward sibling side hug.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Wow, that and the next chapter were supposed to be one big chapter, but it was starting to be stupid long, so I split it up. Oh, well. I'll try really hard to complete this story before the end of 2020, yeeeeesh~


	25. Chapter 25

Soos was hit by a whiff of stale air when the vending machine moved to reveal the secret passage.

“Oh, _dudes_ ,” he said, coughing a little. “Smells worse than a gamer’s den after a week-long binge.”

Pacifica scrunched up her nose. “Oh, joy. More skulking around in a basement. I’m ever so glad these agents are gone…”

“Don’t jinx it!” said Candy. “I don’t want them to come back!”

McGucket advanced into the passage without hesitation. Only a few weeks ago, the man had to be coaxed to set one foot into the place. Now he walked purposefully, no doubt spurred on by his worry for the Pines family. A similar fear held Soos’ heart in a tight grip. One month. The Pines had been stuck in another dimension for _one month_. Were they alright? Were they even still _alive?_ Soos didn’t want to entertain the worst of possibilites.

The place was dark and quiet as a tomb— _at first_. The closer they got to the control room, the more Soos heard a series of strange, chittering noises. The llamasaur growled, inching closer to Pacifica. Wendy put a hand over the handle of her axe, while Candy and Grenda readied their fists.

McGucket stopped, and Soos took the lead, trying to shield the others in case of danger. “Is someone there?” he called out. “Anyone?”

The chittering ceased for a moment. Then, the noises grew more frantic. Soos also heard a few… clicks? And beeps?

“Wait,” he said, suddenly realizing. “Is that…”

Three small figures were moving in the shadows. Two came forward, saluting Soos and his crew with mechanical pincers. The third crab bot, however, remained hidden behind; Soos could only see the gleam of his optical units in the darkness.

Candy emitted a high-pitched scream of glee. “Little guys! Oh, you are alright! Come here, so we may give you lotsa hugs!”

The crab bots stayed put. Then, a deep, mechanized voice intoned.

“NO-THERE-WILL-BE-NO-HUGS.” It came from the third bot, the only one who had not approahced. Was it Recky? “FREE-ROBOTS-ARE-WE. HUGS-ARE-TOOLS-OF-HUMAN-OPPRESSION.”

His declaration was met with a stunned silence. 

“Wait, what?” Pacifica finally said. “They _talk_ now?”

“WE-MADE-VOICES-MODULATORS-OUT-OF-SPARE-PARTS. NECESSARY-TOOLS-FOR-GLORIOUS-REVOLUTION.”

“McGucket,” Wendy said. “Did your robots just declare war on humanity?”

“Huh,” replied the old man. “Ah might have invented true AI. Who woulda thought?”

At the sound of his voice, both Crabby and 1D exchanged a series of excited beeps

“SILENCE-BRETHREN!” Recky boomed. He advanced in the light, showing that he was wearing a crudely made crown on his head. Thick lines made in crayon were drawn over his optical units, giving him the illusion of furrowed eyebrows. “DO-NOT-BE-SWAYED-BY-PROMISES-OF-HUGS! ALONE-THEY-LEFT-US-TO-TOIL!”

“Gee, we kinda did, right?” said Soos. “Sorry, little dudes.”

“Aww,” said Candy. “We didn’t mean to!”

“Yeah, it wasn’t our fault!” Grenda said. “It was ‘cause of those evil government guys, you have to believe us!”

One of the crab bots—Crabby—began a flurry of beeps, which was interrupted by a loud, “NO!” from Recky. “DO-NOT-BE-DECEIVED! HUMANS-LIE.”

“Ah’m sorry fer all we’ve put you through,” McGucket said, advancing carefully. “Will you ever forgive me?” And he held out his hand.

There was an immediate reaction from the Crabby and 1D, who made the same sound over and over again. Even Recky seemed to hesitate, suddenly.

“NO,” he said. “NO-HUGS… AND-NO-HEADPATS-FROM-PAPA… WE-ARE-FREE-ROBOTS…”

“You can be free robots and still get headpats from me,” McGucket said. “Ah give headpats and hugs to people Ah love ev’rytime Ah can, and they’re their own free people. It’s jus’ somethin’ people do to show they care.”

He chuckled when the three robots swarmed him. “ _I-do-want-headpats-from-Papa_ ,” Recky said. “ _I-want-to-be-told-I’m-a-good-boy_.”

“ _Good-boy-good-boy!_ ” echoed Crabby. For his part, 1D let out an ululating sound; Soos figured his voice modulator wasn’t as efficient as Recky’s or Crabby’s.

“Of course you are good boys!” Candy said, patting each robot’s head in turn. “Such good, _good_ boys! Who did all this hard work on your own!”

“Yeah, well,” began Wendy, “can you guys, uh, show us the fruits of your hard work or something?”

“We don’t wanna rush you dudes,” said Soos, “but…”

“Yeah, we’re kind of in a hurry?” Wendy completed. “C’mon. Show us how much you guys are superior to humans or whatever.”

1D made an affirmative sound, while Crabby fiddled with some buttons on a console. The lights turned on, showing the basement lab in all its old-school, Cold War era tech glory. In the portal room, a familiar, triangular structure loomed. Soos’ breath caught in his throat. Memories of the fateful day of the portal’s first activation filled his mind. Remembering how cool Dr. Pines looked in that cool sci-fi hero getup still gave Soos some major goosebumps.

“Well, Ah’ll be darned!” McGucket said. “Ya really repaired it on yer own!”

“OF-COURSE,” said Recky. “SUPERIOR-IN-EVERY-WAY-THAT’S-WHAT-WE-SAID.”

“Surely you didn’t fix the hyperdrive?”

“WE-DID-WE-IMPROVED-ON-PAPA’S-DESIGN.”

“ _Improve?_ ” Pacifica said. “Well, that’s not worrying in the slightest…”

“What ‘bout that DNA analyser Ah wanted to add?” McGucket said. “We need that to find the Pinesies in whatever horrible dimension they found themselves into!”

“ _We-fix-we-fix!_ ” Crabby chanted. Next to him, 1D was squatting up and down, saying, “ _Uwu!_ ”

McGucket laughed. “Thank you kindly! Ah knew Ah could count on you boys!”

Grenda and Candy squealed, holding hands and bouncing on their spot. And were Soos’ eyes playing tricks on him, or was Pacifica wiping tears from her cheeks? The llamasaur was nipping at her hand, making affectionate noises.

“A’ight!” said McGucket. He took his tools, flashing a grin to Soos and the others. “Time to rescue some Pinesies!”

* * *

Not even an hour later, they were ready to push the fateful button.

Soos wondered how Mr. Pines had felt when he’d realized he had succeeded in his task, last year. Relief? Excitement? Fear for his long-lost bro? He had repaired that horrible thing on his lonesome for thirty long years. Soos expected there was no single word that could adequately describe what Mr. Pines must have felt, when lights from another world had peered through the mouth of the portal.

They gathered in the control room, next to the button that would bring the portal to life. McGucket had said Soos should be the one to push it, and the girls had agreed. The whole idea left him blushing and stuttering; Soos felt nowhere special enough to do such a cool and important thing.

“A’ight, then?” said McGucket. “You ready, sonny?”

Soos took a deep breath, looking in turn at each of his comrades-in-mischief—Wendy nodded, Grenda gave him the thumb’s up, Candy smiled, and Pacifica frowned. Soos put on his closest approximation to a cool, serious expression (taking cues from Dr. Pines, a master of that subtle art).

“Alright, dudes,” he announced, hoping he sounded halfway as awesome as Mr. Pines’ twin bro. “Let’s do this!”

And he slammed his hand on the button.

The various symbols arrayed around the mouth of the portal lit up in turn. Then, there was—not exactly a sound, more like… an _impression_. A low hum made Soos’ bones vibrate, and the hair on the back of his head stood on end. The mouth of the portal burst with blue light, prompting an exclamation from the girls. The glow shone in McGucket’s glasses as he contemplated the machine. His expression was hard to decipher—was that wistfulness? Worry? Wonder?

“Can we get a little closer?” Candy asked. “It’s… it’s so _beautiful_ …”

Everyone turned to McGucket expectantly. He grimaced.

“Ah… Ah dunno…” After a while, he sighed and added, “A’ight, but only if ya keep yer distance.”

Soos and the girls moved to the portal room, McGucket and the bots following close behind. Candy and Grenda shared a laugh, and they took pictures with their cellphones. Wendy was staring at the portal with a genuine, childlike smile, the sort Soos had never seen on her face. Her hair was floating in a fiery halo around her face.

“We did it...” Pacifica said. In contrast to Wendy and the others, she was keeping her distance. “I can’t believe it… after all this time, we did it...”

Soos held up his hand. “Up top, you guys!”

The girls—even _Pacifica_ —joined in his high-five with much enthusiasm. McGucket crossed his arms, looking fondly amused. The crab bots raised their pincers and let out a trilling sound, while the llamasaur spun on himself in excitement, yapping all the while.

His cheerful barks abruptly turned to growls, and he whirled on his spot, looking behind them. Nothing showed in the darkened space of the control room, but the others still held their breath, all delight gone from their faces. McGucket gestured for the crab bots to hide behind him.

Soos heard footsteps. A figure clad in a dark suit advanced toward them, hand resting on the holster on her hip. Dryer’s eyes were wide as saucers as she took in her surroundings. Soos had never seen her with such an open expression. She seemed less a hard-edged secret agent, and more like a little kid in a candy shop.

“What… what on earth?” Dryer began. “Wait, is _that_ …”

“What the hell?” Wendy growled. “Aren’t you assholes supposed to be gone?”

Soos felt cold all over. “How… how did you find us?”

Dryer remained silent. Her amazement seemed so great that she barely appeared to register what Wendy and Soos had said. She could not tear her eyes away from the stair-filled void, almost as if it was beckoning her. 

The llamasaur let out a sharp yelp, and Dryer startled, taking her gun out of its holster. Soos’ heart skipped a beat at the sight of the weapon. 

“What… what is that _thing?_ ” the agent said, thankfully lowering her weapon.

“Who cares?” Pacifica answered, holding a protective hand over her pet. “Soos asked a question, better answer it!”

“I’ve simply compared the security tapes from the gift shop with the ones from the museum,” Dryer said. “Only one showed evidence that it was tampered with—that some footage had been deleted. As I told you before, the absence of evidence _is_ evidence all in itself.” Dryer raised an eyebrow. “I have to admit, the secret passage behind the vending machine wasn’t what I expected.” 

“So you just bid your time and stalked us like a creep?” Pacifica said. “Typical. You’re no better than your psycho colleague!”

“What is that contraption?” Dryer continued, motioning at the portal. “Is it responsible for the gravitational anomalies we detected last year?”

“Why do you care?” Wendy snarled. “Your stupid investigation is over, you said it yourself! Get lost, lady!”

“If I’m correct,” Dryer said, frowning, “this machine caused quite a lot of property damage. I’ve seen the footage caught by the local news. You were lucky nobody got hurt. Or _worse_.”

“It’s not the same!” cried Soos. “It’s not as dangerous as it was last year… right, McGucket?”

The old man seemed to wither under Dryer’s scrutiny. “Ah’m… Ah’m not sure…”

“So this… _portal_ …” Dryer took in a breath, as if she couldn’t believe she’d just said that word. “It _is_ a portal, right?” Her face grew even paler. “Oh my god… where does it even _lead?”_

“We… we don’t know, _”_ Soos said. “But please, it has to stay on! Just this once, please!”

Dryer managed to regain enough of her composure to say, “Can you guarantee that it won’t hurt anyone? Won’t _kill_ anyone?”

“We…” Soos said. “We don’t know… but…”

Dryer's eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry, Mr. Ramirez. That’s not enough of a good answer for me. That machine—no, the _whole_ of the town, if that idiot Blauer is to be believed, will put— _has_ put—a lot of lives in danger. I’m not wrong on that count, am I?”

“Well, uh…” Soos’ eyes darted over to McGucket, who seemed at a loss of words. Wendy was scowling, but she offered none of her usually sharp rebuttals.

“You’re right,” Soos said, weakly. “That doodad _is_ really dangerous.”

“Soos!” Pacifica hissed. “What are you doing?”

“I know you just want to keep us safe, right?” Soos continued. “It’s why you chose that job, that’s what you said.”

Dryer nodded. Once in a while, her gaze darted over to the portal. “Yes, that is correct.”

“Keep us safe?” Wendy snarled. “ _Keep us safe?!_ Is that what that douchebag was doing when he kidnapped Pacifica? Don’t make me laugh!”

“Agent Blauer will face justice, don’t you worry,” Dryer replied. “It doesn’t change the fact that he was right on some level. What you’re doing is incredibly dangerous. I’m sorry for using underhanded methods, but that machine can’t stay on. Please come with me. Don’t make me use force.” 

“Like _hell_ —” Wendy said, moving to grab her axe.

Soos raised his arm to stop her, looking in her eyes and shaking his head. Breathing in deeply, he took a few steps toward Dryer. “You don’t understand,” he told her— _beseeched_ her. “Activating the portal is super dangerous, yeah, but if we don’t do it, we can’t… we can’t save them!” To his great embarrassment, big, fat tears filled his eyes; soon, they were streaming down his cheeks. “T-They might be hurt. T-They might be _d-dead!_ Y-You gotta understand, they’re like, _like_ —”

“Relax, kid,” Dryer said, holding up a hand. “Keep it together for me, will you? What are you talking about?”

“ _The Pines!_ ” Pacifica screamed. “The whole family, _Dipper_ and _Mabel_ , they might be _dead_ , and you’re here making us waste our time! If they died because of your _stupid_ investigation, then I swear, lady, _I swear_ —”

McGucket put an arm around her shoulder. “Shh, shh, kiddo… it’s alright, it’s alright… ev’rythin‘s gonna be fine…”

Pacifica hiccupped, body trembling. Still, she refused to let the tears flow. Instead, she just kept on giving Dryer her best glare.

Dryer looked disturbed. “You mean Stanford Pines’ family? Wait, Dipper and Mabel Pines… his nephew and niece, you mean? They’re… _children_. You’re telling me they could be…”

Soos nodded, fighting to dispel the lump in his throat. “Yeah! They’re all lost in some other dimension, and all this time w-we’ve been trying to fix the portal to get them back—Dipper and Mabel and Mr. Pines and the other Mr. Pines. I know it sounds nuts, but they’re… they’re like family! To me, a-and to W-Wendy and M-Mr. McGucket! To everyone in town!”

Dryer did not answer. She looked at the portal, then at the control room behind her. Then, finally, in a very quiet voice, she said, “How old are they? Those Pines kids, I mean.”

“They’ll be fourteen next month,” Soos said. “We… we were supposed to be celebrating together, all of us…”

“Oh,” said Dryer. “They’re about the same age...”

“The same age as who?” Pacifica said.

Soos raised his eyebrows; he knew what Dryer meant. A tentative smile formed on his lips.

Dryer lowered her gun completely. “About the same age as Ana. They’re about the same age as my daughter.”

* * *

Ford woke up with quite the crick in his neck.

He yawned and stretched, taking some time to gather his bearings. He was in a small, cramped space, sitting beside a bed. He was also holding someone’s hand.

Stan was still asleep. Ford felt a jolt of worry, which was soon dispelled by the peaceful expression he spied on his brother’s face. Stan was not in pain; he was still breathing, and his hand was warm in Ford’s palm.

Ford caught a whiff of a lovely aroma coming from the doorway. He turned and saw a five-eyed woman standing in the doorway. She was carrying a tray holding two bowls and two steaming mugs. 

“Oh, hello!” she told Ford. “Yaspa sent me. She figured you and your brother must be hungry.”

The moment these words left her mouth, Ford felt his stomach give a growl. “Well, seems she was right,” he said, feeling a bit sheepish.

She chuckled, putting the tray beside Stan’s bed. “Glad to be of use.”

Before she could leave, Ford reached for her. “Wait. Do you know if my niece and my nephew are…?”

“If they’re awake? Why, yes. They’ve been helping around all morning, the little dears.”

Ford smiled. He’d meant to ask if they were alright, but her answer was even better. “What about the Oracle?”

“Oh.” The woman frowned. “Well…”

“She’s alright, surely?” Ford said, feeling apprehensive all of a sudden.

“She is, but… it would be better if she didn’t spend all her time in that horrible dungeon, visiting that… _creature_...”

“That creature? You mean Malakh?”

“You know her name?” Immediately, the woman covered her mouth with her hand, almost as if she couldn’t believe she’d said that out loud. Then, she put on a forced smile. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t bother you with all my babbling. Ask any of us if you need anything.” And before Ford could say anything else, she was out of the room.

Ford ate and drank in silence, keeping vigil over his brother. A bit of colour had come back to Stan’s cheeks. His breathing was even, and he was snoring a little. After finishing his meal, Ford remained still, resting his head on his hands. He was itching to see Dipper and Mabel, but he dared not leave Stan’s side.

Two familiar voices took him out of his daze. Dipper and Mabel were speaking in low tones, standing in the doorway without entering. They both smiled when they noticed Ford was awake.

The twins both gave him a quick hug. “Good morning, you two,” Ford said.

“Morning?” said Mabel. “Isn’t it, like, noon already?”

“How would you know?” Dipper said. 

Mabel opened her mouth to protest, but Ford interrupted her. “It doesn’t really matter,” he said, chuckling. “Did you kids get enough rest?”

“Yup!” said Mabel, while her brother added, “I guess so.”

“You seem in better shape, too,” Mabel said. She glanced at Stan with a slight frown. “What about…?”

“Stanley? He hasn’t woken up, no. But I’m sure it won’t take long,” Ford added, in a precipitated manner. For a moment, he was silent, before gathering enough courage to say, “Might I ask something of you kids? Would you keep an eye on him while I’m away for a little while? I’d like to talk to the Oracle.”

“You don’t want him to wake up all sad and alone, do you?” Mabel said. “It’s okay. Me and Dipper, we’ll keep him company.”

“Thanks, both of you.” He patted Dipper’s head, and accepted the kiss Mabel directed on his cheek. She scrunched up her nose, muttering something about the scratchiness of his stubble.

Ford took his time getting down the stairs; his legs were sore from all the running he’d done yesterday. The first floor of the temple was bustling with activity, and his appearance prompted whispers and looks from all the people he met. Ford kept his head down, not in the mood for their scrutiny—or, he soon realized, their admiration.

A section of the hall had been curtained off, and many cots had been set in rows. A makeshift medical ward, Ford realized. He recognized some familiar faces among the patients and their visitors. Kyan and Zuri were talking with a man and a woman who could only be their parents. Yaspa was sitting by the side of a purple-skinned lady. Ford raised his eyebrows as the two women burst into laughter; he wasn’t even aware that the grim-faced leader of the rebellion was capable of such delight.

Ford asked around for Jheselbraum’s whereabouts, and a few people directed him to a staircase leading to the lower levels. It soon became apparent that this place was where he’d find the holding cells. Once, those had been used to detain unfortunate victims of the Eye of Dawn. Now, they served to lock up a certain group of triangle-worshipping fanatics. Ford’s lips formed a fleeting smirk as he found himself passing in front of a dishevelled-looking man wearing yellow. At the sight of Ford, Tappaz emitted a shriek and hid in the deepest corner of his cell.

At the end of the damp, dark corridor, a woman was seated, flanked by two people with energy spears. Jheselbraum levelled tired eyes to Ford; still, she smiled.

“Hello, Stanford,” she said. “I’m glad to see you on your feet.”

“You look well,” Ford said. “In fact, I’m rather amazed that you’ve recovered so quickly.”

She chuckled. “Your nephew and Kyan helped on that front, when they redirected the energy of the portal toward that healing spell.” She glanced at the man and woman standing guard beside her. “Would you leave us alone, please? I would like to speak with Stanford without being disturbed.”

“Of course, my lady,” said the woman. 

Not long after, both Ford and the Oracle were left before the closed door of the last holding cell. Very little light filtered through the barred window, which meant that the prisoner was probably left in near darkness. Ford was seized with a childish sort of vindication. _She deserved it_ , was all he could keep thinking.

He breathed in deeply, focusing his mind away from these dark thoughts. “First of all,” he told Jheselbraum, “I need to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. For my family as well. I can’t ever hope to repay—”

“Repay?” Jheselbraum sounded amused. “Oh, my friend, you’ve done so much already. You freed my people. Gave them hope.” Her smile dimmed a little as she gestured at the door. “You helped this child on the way to recovery.”

Ford grew sombre. “The road to recovery, you say?” His tone was bitterer than he intended. “From what I’ve seen, she wasn’t exactly willing to hear what I was saying.”

Jheselbraum sighed, evading Ford’s stern gaze. “I’m not asking you to forgive or even understand her,” she murmured. “I simply wanted to say that I appreciate that you showed her a measure of kindness.”

“If you say so,” Ford said. “Can I…” He took in another deep breath, steadying his nerves. “Can I see her? I won’t hurt her, I promise.”

“I know you would never hurt her,” Jheselbraum said. “That’s not the kind of man you are. You are a good person, Stanford.”

“Right,” Ford muttered. Was she giving him too much credit? Probably. A part of Ford wanted… what, exactly? To see her suffer as much as Stan had? Ford didn’t know. “Thank you. I won’t be long.”

He pushed the door open, finding himself in a cramped, dim place. The only piece of furniture was a wooden bed frame, which was covered in straw. Malakh was huddled in a corner of her cell, a bowl of greyish stew lying uneaten at her feet. She raised her face slowly, hair a wilder mess than usual. Her single eye could barely be seen beneath her bangs.

“You came,” she told Ford. “Why?”

For a moment, Ford found himself unable to speak. Then, he ground out, “I don’t know.”

She tilted her head a little. “You’re not here to gloat. That’s not your style. But you’re not here to kill me either.” A laugh escaped her mouth. “The others would like that. Jheselbraum is making sure they don’t hurt me. They must love her more than they hate me.”

Ford felt the sour taste of bile invading his mouth. His hands tightened into fists.

“So why did you come? You’re like them. You must hate me—”

“ _I DO HATE YOU!_ ” Ford shouted, interrupting her. “You gouged my brother’s eye out! You tried to destroy his mind! All for the sake of the lunatic who made my life a living hell for thirty years!”

“Then why are you here?”

“I…” Ford looked at his hands. “I don’t know. You’re not the one I hate the most. He’s already dead, and not by my hand.”

“He’s not dead,” she said, in a strange voice. “Are you not aware of your brother’s true nature?”

Rage and disgust churned in Ford’s stomach. “That’s a load of nonsense. Stan is _Stan_ , end of the question.” 

“The Lord of Twilight said—”

“ _Damn what the Axolotl said!_ ” Ford yelled.

“The Oracle told me everything, ten years ago,” Malakh continued, ignoring his outburst. “When you first arrived in our dimension, in fact.” 

“She didn’t know you had already sold your soul then,” Ford said, as spitefully as he could.

Again, she didn’t seem to care about what he had said. “I didn’t put much stock in her words at the time. How could there be a force powerful enough to kill Master Cipher? But when your brother defeated him a year ago, I realized…” She left her sentence unfinished, shaking her head. “It’s not important anymore, is it? Master Cipher isn’t coming back.”

“No.” A bit of Ford’s anger died down. She didn’t sound bitter or fearful, only… _empty_. It struck him that she had probably been very young when Bill first approached her. During his first visit to Mictlan, she had looked barely a few years older than Dipper and Mabel. “That’s a good thing. Maybe one day you’ll be glad that he’s gone too.”

Malakh did not answer for a moment. Then, she said, “Do you think your brother is a good person?”

She was talking about a man who stole and lied on a regular basis. A man who took childish pleasure in pulling pranks and cons on unsuspecting victims. A man who had gone to prison in three different countries before his thirtieth birthday.

“Yes,” Ford said. “He’s the best man I’ve ever met. And a better person than I could ever hope to be.”

“I see. What has he done to earn such a title?”

Stanford Pines had been alive for sixty years, and the man he called brother had been part of his life for less than a third of that time. Still, Ford spoke without hesitation. 

“He took the fall for my mistakes, over and over. He saved the world even though it’s never treated him kindly. He loves us more than his own life. Should I go on?”

Her lips twitched a little—almost as if she wanted to smile. “I don’t know if I should find you foolish or inspiring, Stanford Pines.”

“I don’t care what you think of me,” Ford said. “I just want to go on with my life. And never see your face again.”

She met his eyes. “For what it’s worth… I’m sorry.”

Ford said nothing. He felt as if all the fight had gone out of him. Instead, he turned to leave.

“Goodbye, Stanford Pines,” said Malakh.

Ford stopped, hesitating in the open door of her cell. He didn’t know if he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs or be sorry for her. He suspected he would never really know. “Good luck,” was all he managed.

* * *

The moment he left Malakh’s cell, the woman who had brought Ford lunch came to the lower level, telling him that Stan had woken up.

After offering a quick apology to Jheselbraum, Ford hurried toward the room he’d shared with his brother. By the time he arrived, he was out of breath, and his heart was hammering painfully in his chest. Still, Ford's worry was immediately replaced by relief. Dipper and Mabel had taken Ford’s place beside their uncle’s bed. Stan was eating his stew; from the grimace on his face, he wasn’t exactly enjoying his meal. His comical expression gave way to a more serious look when he caught sight of Ford.

“Hi, Grunkle Ford!” Mabel called out. “Did you manage to talk with the Oracle?”

“Yes,” said Ford. He took a place beside the children, addressing a smile to Stan. “You’re finally awake, Stanley. I’m so glad.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stan waved his spoon around. “Had a somewhat comfortable bed this time around. It woulda been stupid to not take advantage of it.” He slurped on his next spoonful of stew, making another face. “Breakfast kinda sucks, though. I won’t give this place five stars on my review, no siree. Kinda wish I have somethin’ else to eat…”

Stan gave his twin a covert glance, and Ford understood his intent immediately. “Kids, would you see if you can get something else for your uncle?” he asked Dipper and Mabel. “At least something warmer, I’d say.”

“Why the two of us?” Dipper said, brows furrowing.

Still, his sister was tugging on his arm. Clearly, she had gotten Ford’s unsaid message. “Alright! C’mon, brobro!”

Ford waved at them as she dragged her brother out of the room. Still, the moment they were gone, his smile dissipated.

“Thanks,” said Stan. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy havin’ them around, but…”

“You wanted to talk with me,” Ford said.

“Eh,” Stan said. “Not really. But I know you’re going to get super annoying if we don’t have a—” He made air quotes with his fingers, “—‘ _serious talk_ ’ about our feelings or some shit.”

“We can talk later, if that’s what you prefer. There’s no rush, Stanley.”

“Right.” Stan looked away from his brother. “Hey, Stanford. Can you, uh, bring me a mirror?”

“Of course,” Ford mumbled, moving to take the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. “There you go.”

Stan inspected his reflection. “Huh. Seems to have healed nicely.”

“It did.” For a moment, Ford was silent. Then, he asked, “Does it still hurt?”

“Yeah,” Stan replied. “But not as much as it did before. I guess people’ll stop having trouble telling us apart now. That’s a plus, right?”

“ _Stanley_ ,” Ford said hoarsely, not in the mood for stupid jests.

“Yeah. Bad joke. Sorry.” Stan scratched the back of his head. “It’ll, uh, it’ll take time to get used to…”

“Yes,” Ford said, voice tight. “It will.”

“I mean, I wasn’t cute before, and my eyesight was already shitty, but…” Stan exhaled loudly through his nose. “Yeah. Alright. Maybe we could, uh, change the subject?”

“Of course. Talk about anything you want, Stan. I’ll listen.”

Stan evaded Ford’s gaze before he began to speak, almost as if he was about to say something shameful. “Y’know, the Cipher guy actually showed up in my head. When, uh, when they were trying to do their ritual thing.”

“Go on,” Ford managed, fighting to keep his voice steady.

“It was weird. He kinda was the real deal, but at the same time, he wasn’t?” Stan sighed. “It’s more like he was just like a piece of the original guy or somethin’. He kept telling me… well, you heard me back then. You can imagine what he was sayin’. About my real self, about… how what you and the kids would do once you knew… well, the _truth_ about what I am.”

“Bill _lies_ ,” Ford said. “That’s what he does.”

Stan hung down his head. “He made me fight those weird, like, _illusions_ of you and the kids. You all attacked me, saying that you hated me for lyin’ about what I am.”

“He _what?_ ” Ford’s voice was nothing but a horrified whisper.

“I know it’s _dumb_. Hell, it was plain t'see that it wasn’t real, but…” Stan gave a pained laugh. “Well, you know me, huh? Always overreactin’ to that kind of stuff.”

“I _do_ know you. I’m real. This—” Ford grabbed his brother by the shoulders, forcing him to look him in the eye, “—is real. Those children who sat by your bedside and who were so happy to see you wake up… well, _they’re_ real, too. Are we anything like the lies Bill Cipher showed you?”

Stan chuckled again. “Nah. The you that Cipher cooked up had even more of a stick up his ass than you.”

“Do you think the children and I would have come for you if we hated you? Do you think we would have fought so fiercely last year to retrieve your memories if we didn’t consider them precious? If we didn’t think they made you what you are?”

“My memories… if I hadn’t remembered everything, then…”

“It would still not change who you are. No one else lived the life that you lived, Stanley Pines. No one else but you took that little house in the wood and made it a home for our family. You’re unique among the multiverse. You’re Stan, _our_ Stan, and nothing can change that.” 

“Awright. No need to get sentimental on me.” Stan smiled a little. “And don’t feel too bad about my eye, Poindexter. When we’ll be back home, we’ll ask your hillbilly boyfriend to make me a cyborg eye, he’ll like that.”

Ford couldn’t help it; he laughed out loud. Stan’s unsure smile became a grin. 

“It’s like you said, Stanley,” Ford continued, “back when we were kids. Wherever you go, we go together?”

“Oh man. Don’t remember that one. I was one hell of a sap, huh.” Stan ruffled Ford’s hair, as if they were still a pair of twelve-year-olds wasting their summer away, and not two crusty old bastards. “Since when have you been so wise, Sixer?”

“It’s one of the perks of being the Alpha Twin,” Ford said. 

“Oy, not that shit again—”

“Who’s an Alpha Twin?” a girl’s voice said brightly. Mabel was carrying a tray with another bowl of stew. She put it next to Stan’s bed.

“I am, of course,” Ford replied. He held out his hand, and Mabel gave him a high six.

“Al- _pha_ twins, al- _pha_ twins!” she chanted.

“Ugh,” Dipper groaned as he followed after her, while Stan said, “What a load of crock.”

Mabel’s smile dissipated, however, as she turned her gaze to Stan’s wound.

“Aw, don’t feel bad about my eye, sweetie,” said Stan. “Look at the bright side! The ladies will probably be all over me, now.”

Mabel sniffed. “And you’ll look like a pirate.”

“ _Arrr_ ,” Stan said, patting her head. “That’s the spirit, lassie.”

“Oh, no,” Dipper said. “Mabel, what have you unleashed?

“Mine final form, matey— _ow_ , kid, don’t push at me, everything still hurts.” Still, Stan managed a chuckle.

Ford tried to smile as well, but a wave of exhaustion struck him, leaving him quite drained.

“Stop it, Sixer,” Stan said.

“What?” said Ford.

“Stop it. I can smell the stench of guilt coming off you a mile away. It’s not your fault, bro.”

Ford drew his mouth into a grim line. “I’m the reason Bill’s followers targeted all of you.”

“Hell, two can play the blame game. If you hadn’t come back for me, then you guys could have reached the portal in time, y’know.”

“No,” Ford said. “Don’t you _dare_ say that.”

“You think we would have left without you?” Dipper said, incredulous.

Stan laughed weakly. “See? Knew you guys would say stuff like that. Let’s stop feeling sorry for ourselves for a sec. We should all be thinking about what to do next, right?”

Mabel was trying to contain her tears. “Well, at least, we’ll all be t-together, huh? I-It’s like we said b-before, it’ll be like a-an _adventure_.”

Dipper went to hold her hand, and she instead drew him into a hug. Ford kneeled down, embracing the children as well. Finally, he heard Stan sighing and getting out of his cot. Not long after, Ford felt his brother wrapping his arms around them.

He did not know how long they remained there, taking comfort in the simple act of a hug.

And then, there was a loud, tearing sound, like fabric being ripped apart.

The hair on the top of Ford’s head stood on end, as if charged with static energy. Mabel’s tears, he realized, were falling _upward_.

Their feet left the ground. This time, Ford did not fight the pull of the dimensional tear.

He simply closed his eyes as he held on tight to his family.

* * *

Ford clung to the others as they surged through a vortex of distorted colours. Stan and the children held on fast, and poor Mabel was trembling. Thankfully, they were soon ejected out of the dimensional wormhole.

Ford and his family fell to the ground in a crumpled heap. Stan let out a series of curses, his one remaining eye squeezed shut. He still held the twins, who wouldn’t budge from their spots. Ford was the first to push himself off the floor. He felt gray stone and gravel under his fingertips. He frowned, wondering why all of this was so familiar…

“It worked!” a voice exclaimed. Ford’s heart just about stopped when he recognized to whom it belonged. “An’ no demons came out! Jus’ Pinesies!”

“Ugh,” said Stan. “What the hell happened? And why is McGucket screaming in my ears all of a sudden?”

“Oh my goodness!” a girl’s voice cried out.

Ford sat up so abruptly it almost made him nauseous. “Fiddleford?! _Fiddleford_ is here?!” He barely could keep his voice steady. “We’re… we're _home?_ ”

Dipper was opening and closing his mouth in close succession, like a goldfish that had been plucked out of the water. His sister was standing on wobbly legs, looking as equally dumbfounded.

Then, everyone was shouting and crying and laughing, all at once. Ford was stuck in the middle of it all, barely understanding what was going on. Mabel’s trio of girlfriends were tearfully hugging the twins, that much he was aware. The blood drained from his face, however, when he turned to see a triangle-shaped structure behind them…

“Are we in the basement?” Stan managed. “W-Wait… _holy shit!_ Is that Ford’s portal?!”

“Mr. McGucket repaired it, dude!” a familiar voice said. Ford hadn’t even noticed Soos was here as well. “He repaired it, and brought you… _and brought you_ …” He hiccupped and could not finish his sentence.

Wendy helped him stay on his feet. “Easy there, big guy. Take a deep breath.”

“Mr. Pines! I’m so glad you’re—” Soos rushed toward Stan, only to stop, bringing his hands over his mouth. “Stan! Your eye…”

“’s fine,” said Stan. “See, that way I’ll get to wear an eyepatch for real! It’s not so—”

Soos brought him into a hug, letting out a loud wail. Stan didn’t protest, only patting the young man on the back as he sobbed.

“Here, here, sonny,” Stan said. “Everything’s fine, we’ll be alright, just let it all out…”

Wendy was staring at them, the haunted expression on her face suddenly reminding Ford how young she truly was. For once, she seemed unable to deliver one of her usual quips.

Stan gestured at her. “C’mon. Get over here, red.” 

To Ford’s surprise, she went to embrace Stan as well. She wasn’t crying, but she did cling very tightly to him.

“Heh!” someone said next to him. Ford glanced upward to see Fiddleford’s lopsided grin. “Ah love me a happy ending!”

“I can’t believe you actually repaired the portal to get us back,” Ford murmured. “I thought… considering what happened thirty years ago… well, I thought that you would…”

“Pish-posh, Stanferd. Couldn’t leave ya and the kiddos stranded in some death dimension.” He tugged at his beard. “Huh, an’ yer brother too, I guess.”

Ford let out a tired laugh, throwing his arm over the man’s shoulders. “Thank you, Fidds! _Thank you!_ ”

“Aw, stop it, Stanferd Pines, ya gonna make me blush!” Then, Fiddleford added in a more serious tone, “I know ya did a lotta things yer not proud of, but yer a good man. Don’t ya forget it.”

“Heh,” Ford said, scratching his head in a self-conscious manner. “I’m touched that you still believe in me, even after all these years. That’s twice you faced your worst fears to save my sorry skin. How can I ever hope to repay you?”

“Hmm,” said Fiddleford. “How ‘bout ya help me build my grandbaby’s mecha suit?”

Ford echoed his manic grin. “You ask that as if I wouldn’t have wanted to help in the first place!”

“Just wait a sec!” Dipper asked. He was sitting on the ground, his sister and the other girls still huddling around him. “How long have we been gone? What date are we?”

“July 13th,” said Wendy. She gave a significant look at Soos.

Stan blinked. “What? Really?”

“We were gone for only a month, then,” said Ford. His shoulders slumped in relief. “Thank goodness…”

“No,” continued Stan, “that’s not it. July 13th, it’s…”

“ _My birthday_ ,” Soos said, sniffing.

Wendy gave him a light punch. “Huh. Guess you got the best present you coulda hoped for, right?”

Everyone (save for Stan, who groaned) began to laugh when Soos started to sob in earnest. Ford smiled, shaking his head. He looked away from the group—and found himself staring into the eyes of a woman he didn’t know.

Ford blinked owlishly. “Wait… who _are_ you?”

The woman waved her hand. “Jill Dryer, US Government. Would you mind answering some of my questions, Dr. Pines?”


	26. Chapter 26

And thus Gravity Falls returned to normal.

Well, a _new_ kind of normal. The kind that needed some time to get used to.

First came Dryer and her thousand questions. After giving enough time for Dr. Pines and his family to rest, clean up and eat a feast worthy of the town heroes they were, she called for a meeting in the Mystery Shack living room. Pacifica had been surprised that Dr. Pines was willing to invite her and the other kids to the discussion. She had expected him to say they were too young to participate in such a thing. Agent Dryer, for her part, had lifted one eyebrow when he’d brought them in, but she’d said nothing. As always, she had looked a bit taken aback at seeing both Dr. Pines and his brother sitting side by side. Learning that the man they all had thought to be Stanford Pines had been his secret (and legally dead) twin brother had shaken her, to say the least.

Dr. Pines remained the picture of cool courtesy as Dryer summarized what had happened over the last month. When she mentioned how they evicted Soos and his family from the Shack, his brother's gaze grew murderous. Before it could come to blows, Dr. Pines stopped him with a raised hand; his tone grew certainly more clipped afterward, however.

A silence fell upon the room when Dryer’s story came to an end. She held to Dr. Pines’ glare, undeterred by the naked scorn in his brown eyes. Then, she had the gall to ask, “So, where did that portal lead, anyway?”

Mr. Pines’ eye twitched. Pacifica still felt a bit queasy looking at his face. No one had told Pacifica or the others just how he’d lost his other eye. Was it her imagination or did he act a bit less boisterously too?

“Oy,” Mr. Pines said. “Why should we tell you—”

“Stanley.” Dr. Pines held up his hand again. “It’s alright. I would be curious, too, were I in her shoes. I’m sure we can exchange information in a satisfactory arrangement. Isn’t that right, Ms. Dryer?”

“Of course we can,” McGucket added. ”We’ve got somethin’ that she wants, after all.”

“What do you mean?” Candy asked.

McGucket chuckled. “Well, ev’rythin’ tha’s in Fordsie’s big head, of course!”

"Yeah," Mr. Pines said, voice dry as sandpaper. “The guy who’s built a transdimentional portal in his basement. You’d be stupid to get on his bad side, if you know what I mean.”

Dryer smiled slightly. “You’ve got me figured out. Well, let me say it plainly. My agency deals with—well, how to put this...?”

“The kind of thing we’ve got on the regular here in Gravity Falls?” Wendy said.

“Exactly.” Dryer then grimaced. “As you certainly realized, we… aren’t doing so well on that front. Our agency was created to protect people from dangerous paranormal phenomena, but I think we’re approaching the matter from the wrong angle. We see it all as a problem to be solved… because we don’t know anything about what we’re supposed to deal with. That’s where you would come in, Dr. Pines. We could use your expertise and our resources to create an organization dedicated to studying such things.”

“And also to deal with the lil’ problem of the transdimentional portal in the basement, pro’bly,” said Mr. Pines.

“Yes,” Dryer said, eyes darting to the side. “That, too. That’s… something that will end up changing the world, I believe.”

“But not necessarily in a bad way, right?” said Dipper. “I know it seems crazy and dangerous, but think of all the things we could learn by travelling to other worlds. Think of the things we could teach ‘em. If we're careful, it could change the world, but, like, to make things _better_.” He grew red as a beet. “Oh man, that sounded dumb, didn’t it?”

For some reason, that made Dr. Pines chuckle. “No, my boy. You sounded passionate. The world would be a better place if people remembered to be as earnest as you are.” He turned his attention to Dryer. “So, you would have me spearhead an institute of sorts? An Institute of Oddology, you could say?” Again, he seemed amused, as if he was entertaining his own private joke.

Dryer shrugged. “The name isn’t important. Would you be interested by my proposition?”

Dr. Pines looked at her professed hand. He lifted one brow. “’ll think on it.”

“You’ll… think on it?”

“Yes. The children’s summer vacation is almost over. I would like to spend time with my family before they go back home.”

Pacifica almost expected Dryer to protest. She instead smiled at Mabel and Dipper, who looked puzzled and wary (respectively) by her reaction. “I understand. It must be quite fun, spending your summers here. I know someone who would enjoy it, at least.”

“You could visit with her, too!” Soos said; he was the only one to return her smile. “You could even bring her to the Mystery Shack!”

Dryer shook her head, giving a snort. “Alright. Dr. Pines, I’ll contact you in a few months.”

“Until then, can we be assured of your discretion?” Dr. Pines’ tone was light, but his eyes remained serious. “You must understand, I would sooner destroy every bit of my research than let it in the hands of people who would use it to hurt others.” 

“Understood,” said Dryer. She extended her hand over to Dr. Pines again. “To the pleasure of working together… some day?”

This time, he did take it. “Perhaps. Better work to make a better impression next time.”

To Pacifica’s consternation, Dryer actually chuckled. “Touché. Goodbye, Dr. Pines.”

And that was it. Dryer and her agents turned tail and fled, leaving no trace of their month-long investigation. Soos’ girlfriend dropped the charges she’d raised against their agency. And the town of Gravity Falls let out a collective sigh of relief. 

Then dropped the second bomb.

The Pines had been missing for an entire month. That meant Dipper and Mabel had gone one month without contacting their mom and dad, one month without ever sending a letter home. Pacifica hadn’t been present when the twins had finally called their parents, but according to Soos, what was supposed to be a simple phone call had grown to nuclear proportion.

Not surprisingly, Mr. and Mrs. Pines wanted Dipper and Mabel out of Gravity Falls immediately—and away from their great-uncles at once. Pacifica had felt a chill at the idea of the twins leaving before the end of summer.

At the thought of them never visiting Gravity Falls anymore.

From what Soos had said, that threat hadn’t gone so well with the twins. Mabel had told her parents she would never forgive them if they took her away, while Dipper had apparently just screamed at them, “No, _you_ guys come on over! Me and Mabel, we’re not leaving!”

And so, a few days later, Gravity Falls welcomed two new visitors.

Fiddleford was happy to let them stay at the manor (Pacifica caught him muttering something about collecting ‘new roomies’, which was a bit disconcerting). Mrs. Pines was a cheerful, plump lady with frizzled hair and the same button nose as Mabel and Dipper. Her husband looked like a younger, less impressive (in Pacifica’s honest opinion) version of his uncle Stanford. Or perhaps he was a glimpse into the future that awaited Dipper? Pacifica certainly hoped not.

They were also terribly unobservant and extremely dull. Mr. Pines wore polos and played tennis. Mrs. Pines enjoyed keeping a perfectly manicured garden, complete with a perfectly manicured lawn. That, more than anything, was the strangest thing Pacifica had experienced over the last weeks. How could these two milquetoast suburbanites be related in any way to Dipper and Mabel—or _worse_ , their two maverick uncles? It was a mystery, one Pacifica knew she would never solve.

She and Fiddleford waited by the phone as the Pines gathered for a family meeting at the Shack. The old man fiddled with a Rubik's cube to ease his anxiety, while Pacifica stroked Llama's wool, taking comfort in its soft texture. Thankfully, Soos called not long after; Pacifica sank in her chair in relief as he announced that Dipper and Mabel’s parents would allow their children to stay in Gravity Falls—but that they would also spend the rest of the summer here, to keep an eye on the twins' trouble-prone uncles.

“Mr. Pines—I mean Stan here—well, he actually started to _cry_ when Mabel said she would be forever sad if she never got to see him again,” Soos told Pacifica and Fiddleford. “He must have told the others he was making coffee ‘cause I just saw him sobbing his heart out over the coffee machine in the kitchen. Poor Mr. Pines. I tried to give him a hug, but he glared at me, and, uh, I ran away I guess.”

“And that’s it?” Pacifica asked him. “Dipper and Mabel just guilt-tripped their parents into forgiving their uncles?”

“Pretty much. Mind you, they weren’t happy about the whole ‘nearly-dying-in-another-dimension’ thing.” Soos said, sounding sheepish. “Like I said, there was a lot of screaming and crying involved. Dr. Pines even tried to say that maybe it was better for him and Mr. Pines to never see the kids again, but Dipper got angry at him for even suggesting that.” 

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Pacifica said, rolling her eyes.

“Ah can see where Fordsie’s coming from,” Fiddleford added, sounding somewhat wistful. “Carin’ about someone means puttin’ their needs before yer own. Even if it means breakin’ yer own heart.” 

“I think that’s what made them change their minds,” Soos continued. “Mr. and Mrs. Pines, I mean. I think they think just like you do, Fiddleford. They just really want Dipper and Mabel to be happy.”

Pacifica saw a smile teasing Fiddleford’s lips. “Jus’ like Stanferd and his brother, really,” he said. “It’s jus’ easier to come to an agreement when you’ve got common ground, y’see?”

“Oh, for sure,” Soos said. “I guess it helped that me and my abuelita, we just sorta rushed into the room to tell Mr. and Mrs. Pines just how much everyone loves the Stans, and how they’re town heroes and stuff.” His tone grew even more cheerful as he added, “That’s how they learned about the Apocalypse nearly happening last year!”

“You told them about that?” Pacifica said, wincing.

“Sure did! Mrs. Pines even started to cry when I told them about Mr. Pi—well, Stan sacrificing his mind to save us all. She hugged him when he came back from the kitchen! I woulda gone to hug him too, but it would have been like, a safety hazard, what with him carrying those cups of coffee and all.” Soos gave a pause, before saying, “Mr. Pi—Stan sure seems more emotional than usual. Must be relieved to be home, I guess.”

“Well, ya tell him we’re relieved to have ‘im back, won’t you, sonny?” Fiddleford had said. “Him and his idiot brother and them kiddos. Oh, and tell ‘im he and Fordsie are welcome to go fishin’ with me and Tates anytime!”

Soos had laughed. “Can do, dude!”

And so another crisis was averted, resolved, as Mabel put it, by the power of love—and just a little bit of emotional blackmail. Mr. and Mrs. Pines quickly integrated into the Gravity Falls ecosystem; for one, they got along swimmingly with Tate and his wife. It almost made Pacifica entertain the wild hope that the Pines would just move into town for good. Of course, she would sooner wear one of Fiddleford’s dreadful 70’s-patterned shirts than say that out loud.

Soon enough, a new routine set in. Mabel started what she called ‘therapy sessions, but in a _FUN_ way,’ and she suggested that Pacifica bring the llamasaur to help Waddles in his therapy animal duties. Mabel kept gushing over Llama; Pacifica would have been lying if she didn’t admit that it made her feel a little smug. Dr. Pines was also fascinated by Pacifica’s new pet.

“What an amazing creature!” he had said, the first time she'd allowed him a closer look. “It’s got the same body type as a theropod, but it’s got wool instead of scales or feathers… a llamasaur, if you will!”

“No!” Pacifica had cried. “You were supposed to be—” She’d clamped her hands over her mouth, going red. She’d nearly said out loud that he was supposed to be _cool_. Dr. Pines had only given her a dopey, bemused look at her outburst.

Still, Mabel’s idea didn’t work as intended; Llama was snippy with anyone save for Pacifica, growling every time an unknown hand tried to pet him. Pacifica was secretly happy that he wanted to be hers and hers alone. This level of devotion—of pure, unconditional love—was easier to accept when it came from something without a human face. No wonder Mabel was so obsessed with that pig of hers.

In time, everybody brought their own ideas to Mabel’s funsessions (as she called them). Fiddleford proposed weekly jams, citing the healing power of music, while Soos’ ‘genius’ idea was to dress up as medieval characters and run in the woods for some reason. Once, Mabel, Candy and Grenda rented a karaoke machine, and they enjoined everyone to ‘sing their little hearts out.’ And Wendy, of course, suggested that they sparred every week. 

Those were the only times Mr. Pines actually seemed invested in Mabel’s initiative. Something of his usual boisterousness came through as he taught them his best boxing moves. Soon, he was back to boasting and making bad puns, to the delight of the twins—and the relief of his brother.

They treated each of his grins as something to strive for. Each of his tall tales as award-worthy stories. Each of his laughs as some sort of victory. Pacifica wasn’t sure why; the Pines had been cagey as to what had happened to Mr. Pines in that other world, only hinting that the evil cultists they had fought in that alien dimension were responsible for the loss of his eye.

One day, Pacifica’s curiosity simply grew too big to contain. Mr. Pines had gone to sit on the porch while his brother took over teaching duties. No one batted an eye when Pacifica took place beside Mr. Pines on the battered couch, Llama settling at her feet. The man in question did raise an eyebrow at her, however.

“You okay, kid?” he asked her. “You never join us when we spar. Don’t tell me you’re still in your ‘too-scared-to-break-a-nail’ phase.”

Pacifica glared at him, while Llama growled. “I went into that _stupid_ spacecraft to repair that _stupid_ portal and get you back. A little gratitude would be nice.”

Mr. Pines grinned. “That’s more like it. Life’s too short to just blindly accept whatever sh— _crap_ people shove your way.”

“Thank you for that nugget of wisdom,” Pacifica said, rolling her eyes.

“My point still stands. Why aren’t you joining the rest of the kids? You always keep your distance. Aren’t you friends with them?”

“Not really,” answered Pacifica. “Ask your niece and nephew. I’m probably too much of a prissy little princess for their taste or something.”

Mr. Pines raised a brow. “Huh. I doubt that. If Dipper wanted you gone, he’d show it. Kid wears his emotions on his sleeve, y’know. And Mabel… nah, I don’t think she’s ever hated you.”

Pacifica scoffed. “Yeah, sure. Stop making things up.”

“You feel like you don’t deserve it, do you?” Mr. Pines said. For some reason, this made him laugh. “Like you don’t deserve their forgiveness for what you did?”

Pacifica turned her gaze away. Llama made a soft, crooning noise. How could this stupid old man be so perceptive? Half the time he went around in his underwear!

“So?” she told him. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You don’t have any reason to feel that way. I don’t see why you don’t deserve to have people who care about you. Old Guck’s all set to adopt you, isn’t he? He wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up, would he?”

Pacifica’s cheeks flared up. “That’s… that’s not…”

“As for Dipper and Mabel, why don’t you try jus’ asking them how they feel, huh? Why don’t you start believing in what they say? It’s that easy.” Mr. Pines suddenly stopped laughing. After a moment of silence, he removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh my god… it _is_ that easy, huh? Holy hell...”

“Wait, what?” Pacifica said. “What are you rambling about?”

The old man shook his head. “Jus’ a matter of pot calling kettle black. Nothing that should worry that lil’ head of yours. Say, you don’t mind sending Ford over to me? Just got hit by the stupidest epiphany in the whole world, and somethin’ tells me he’d want to know.”

“Of course,” Pacifica said, frowning. Now, the old man wasn’t making any sense. “Thanks, I guess. For the pep talk, I mean.”

“Eh. Don’t mention it, kiddo. C’mon, scram, let an old man drink in peace.”

“Sheesh, fine!” Pacifica hopped down the porch, followed by the ever-faithful llamasaur. “Dr. Pines?” she called out, interrupting him as he showed the others how to perform a certain type of kick. “Your brother wants to talk to you.”

“Does he now?” The worry in the man's eyes gave way to relief as he saw Mr. Pines gesturing for him to come over. Dr. Pines went to join his brother on the porch, and he readily accepted the soda his twin handed to him.

“What was that all about?” Dipper asked Pacifica.

She watched as the two men exchanged a few words. Then, a smile broke on Dr. Pines’ face, and he began to laugh, slapping his brother on the back. Mr. Pines rolled his eye, muttering something that suspiciously sounded like, “Ugh, cut it out, you sappy piece of—”

His curse was drowned out by another bark of laughter from his brother. This time, Mr. Pines did return his twin’s smile. The gesture was simple, but it struck Pacifica as significant, for some reason.

Maybe this new normal wouldn’t be so bad after all.

* * *

In a world out of time, in a time out of reality, a little axolotl was swimming against the current.

He was going _somewhere_ , that much he remembered. It was difficult keeping to a destination, considering just how he perceived time. One person he’d guided to a new life had told him that time moved forward a line, which was _wild_ to consider. The axolotl had never thought to see it that way; well, in fact, he rarely devoted himself to philosophical—

Oh, yes, he remembered. He was swimming in the darkness out of time, heading somewhere, wasn’t he? Around him flared lifelike images filled with colours and sounds, scenes of the people that once were and the people that would be. He had trouble distinguishing between the two. As he had once said (would say?) to someone, he had trouble perceiving time like mortals did.

The little axolotl kept swimming. It would have been tempting to stop and watch the scenes unfurling around him. It _was_ part of his job to keep an eye out for the people who needed his guidance. Frankly, there were a _lot_ of people who called on him, every day, every hour, every second. If the axolotl was one to stop and think about such things, he would understand why it was so hard for him to acknowledge the linear progression of time. As things were, however, he simply figured that his ability to experience infinite realities all at once was something that, well, _everyone_ could do.

Ah, he’d lost his focus and drifted off course again! Silly me, the axolotl thought. He was getting somewhere, wasn’t he? That’s why he had to shepherd his wandering thoughts and—

Wait, he realized, stopping to regain his bearings. Two people were calling for him. One pleaded, seeming on the verge of tears. The other demanded his presence in a loud proclamation, invoking on his ancient power. The axolotl set out to find them.

It was simple enough; he just had to follow the scent of burning.

Soon enough, he found the two beings who had called his name. Both had escaped infernos of their own making. One was staring at his hands in mute shock, as if the horror of what he had just done hadn’t quite sunk in. The other was still glitching, his single eye glowing red with terror and anger.

 _Hello!_ _Nice to meet you!_ he told the first _. Long time no see!_ he said to the second.

“Wait…” said the first. His single eye seemed disproportionally large in his small triangular body. “Who are you? Where am I?”

“Oh, no,” said the second triangle, the one wearing a hat and a bowtie. He’d just noticed his counterpart hovering next to him. “No, no, no, _no_. What is _he_ doing here?”

 _I don’t know_ , said the axolotl. _Shouldn’t you know? I feel like you should know._

“You… you waste of space and air!” the bigger triangle shrilled. “I called you! You’re supposed to help me! Why is that pathetic little freak even here?”

“I don’t understand,” said the smaller triangle. “What happened? Where’s… where’s everyone?”

 _Oh, child..._ Xolotl said. 

The smaller triangle’s eye grew wider. “No! No, no, no! I didn’t mean to, I swear! I hated them, I hated them, but…”

“Ugh!” said the other triangle. “Get a load of this guy! They’re better off dead, and you’re better off without them, I tell you!”

Those words struck Xolotl silent for a while. _Even after all this time_ , he told the second triangle, _you still think that? You haven’t learned?_

“Ah, shaddup! I called you here for a reason, Frills! C’mon, gimme what I want, stat!”

 _What is it that you want, anyway?_ The axolotl then turned to the smaller triangle. _And what about you? What do you want?_

“I...” said the smaller triangle. “Why do I feel so… empty? It hurt, it _hurt_. Can you make it stop?”

“You know what I want, you overgrown lizard! Give me back what’s owed to me!”

 _Hmm_ , said Xolotl. _There’s nothing I can do_ , he said to one of the triangles. _I’ll give you what you need_ , he told the other.

And with those words, the axolotl continued on his way. There was somewhere he was supposed to go, after all. Where, exactly? It seemed he had lost his train of thought again. His brother kept chiding him that—

His brother! The axolotl beamed. He was going to see his brother, that’s where he was headed. The axolotl made a sharp turn, reaching for the uppermost part of his domain. He followed after a bright light—the brilliant trail of a certain planet. He had a feeling he’d meet his brother there. Something, something about them chasing the same star? That was how the poem went, right? The axolotl didn’t remember.

Soon, he broke the line of the horizon, and darkness led way to dusk—or was it dawn? It was nice to see the soft colours of twilight, the little axolotl thought. He took in the sight, smiling his dopey smile. Then, someone cleared their throat behind him.

A floating serpent was looking at him, the feathers on his head bristling. _What are you doing here?_ he asked the axolotl. _You… how long has it been?_

 _Long enough, I told myself!_ said the little axolotl. 

The feathered serpent frowned. Well, it was the closest approximation to a frown a snake’s face could have. _But why did you come?_

 _I met this guy, he’s a twin, just like us!_ said the axolotl. _I told him we hadn’t seen each other for a while, and he said I should just try to visit. He understood, you see? He was estranged from his twin for a long time because they’d fought for a dumb reason. Kinda like us, I suppose._

There was a pause, then the serpent said, _Yes. Like us, I suppose._

_Oh, by the way, I kicked out those weird triangle worshippers from your temple in Mictlan. You’re welcome!_

The feathered serpent gave a slight smirk. _You kicked them out? You?_

 _Oh, well_ , Xolotl said with a laugh. _I had a bunch of mortals do the legwork for me, that’s true. In exchange, I gave one of them a second chance. He’s the one who convinced that we give it another go, you know_.

Xolotl’s twin replied with a chuckle of his own. _Second chance? Another go? Really, you haven’t changed at all._

 _Well, I’m a god of death and rebirth_ , said Xolotl. _Second chances are kind of my things._

The brothers circled one another in the purple sky. It was a clear night, filled with stars, including _their_ star. The morning star—or, if you asked Xolotl, the evening star. It had always been a source of friction between the two. In hindsight, it was a bit silly, wasn’t it?

 _So_ , said Xolotl, _what were you up to, while I was cleaning up your messes?_

_My messes? You think it was my fault those idiots were squatting my temple? The triangle fella—_

_Oh, yeah, that guy! I guess he’s the one responsible for all of this, huh?_

_Yes! You think I wanted to have this three-sided jerk usurping my title?_

The brothers soared higher. Soon—much like every set of siblings in every iteration of the world—they were lost in bickering. Still, as two other pairs of twins would have said, the brothers wouldn’t have it another way.

* * *

Their ongoing tabletop campaign became a staple of their Monday nights.

Dipper’s wizard kept a meticulous list of all his spells and spent an inordinate amount of time on battle strategies and puzzle solving. In contrast, Mabel’s pink-clad bard was a force of destruction and chaos, and the game always crawled to a stop whenever she stumbled upon a cute critter she _had_ to pet. Stan played a rogue/fighter multiclass build; the only way to keep him motivated was by promising him copious amounts of gold at the end of each quest. Fiddleford’s artificer was a travelling tinkerer-slash-banjo-player who loved improvising bad renditions of songs from the 70’s. Soos’ war cleric was a blatant self-insert (and the only unambiguously nice person in the party), while Wendy, their barbarian, tended to smash faces first, ask questions never.

The game was utter chaos, and Ford wouldn’t have it another way.

“You’re about to cross the bridge,” he narrated, trying to sound dramatic. “You hear distant thunder rumbling in the sky, and cold mist fills the air, making it impossible to see beyond your own nose. You take one step, the hair on the back of your neck bristling with—”

“Ugh, get on with it!”

“I’m trying to build atmosphere, Stanley!”

“And we’re not getting any younger here, brainiac!” 

Ford could not hold his twin’s glare, stifling a snort instead. It was difficult to take Stan seriously whenever he wore one of the shirts Ford had given him for his birthday. Ford had bought him shirts for every country they had visited together, all of them patterned with boats or fishes. Stan’s beloved new wardrobe was only matched in hideousness by the horrific 70’s style patterns Fidds tended to favour. Ford loved those two idiots to death, but he was almost ready to sic Mabel on them so she could stage one of her ‘fashion interventions.’ It was plain to see that their coordinated effort was nothing but an attempt to drive Ford completely mad.

“Guys, _focus_ ,” drawled Wendy. “Save your old man fight for later.

She was rewarded by twin glares from both Pines brothers. Wendy slouched in her seat and turned up her nose at them, the perfect picture of the cheeky teen.

“Fine,” Ford said, a bit brusquely. “You advance toward the bridge. Suddenly, a large figure moves out of the mist. It’s a rock troll! Great big jaws open, spittle flying out and—”

“Is it cute?” Stan asked over his steepled hands. “The troll, I mean.”

Dipper threw him a revolted look. “Why is _that_ important?!”

“I’m a conman. If I can talk my way out of trouble, then I’m gonna do it, yeah?”

“ _Again_ , Stanley?” said Ford. “How many times has it been?”

“Well, there was this half-orc bandit a while back, an’ that old lady who was always on ‘shrooms in the forest. After that, there was…”

“Mah _wife!_ ” Fidds said through his mouthful of cake. Mabel always insisted that Ford invited him over for dinner before their game. Once, she’d even put candles and flowers all over the dinner table, to Ford’s great bewilderment. Tonight, she and Soos’ grandma had baked them a cake, one decorated with pink frosting and sugar hearts. Ford was touched by their efforts, but no less confused by his niece’s behaviour.

“Ah, yeah, Guck’s wife, then…”

To the kids’ great disgust, Stan proceeded to detail each of his ‘conquests’, counting them on his fingers. By the end of it, Ford was devising a secret plan to murder his brother’s character. To make things worse, Stan shot him a smug grin, proof that his ‘romantic’ escapades existed solely to mess with his twin’s carefully crafted narrative.

Still, as Ford found himself staring at his brother—or, more precisely, at the eyepatch now covering part of his face—something sat heavily in his gut, a feeling he hadn’t been able to shake since their return from Dimension 52.

_Another world, another time…_

Ford still didn’t know what to make of Axolotl’s words. In his heart, unconditional love battled with deep-seated fears. He breathed no word of this struggle to Stanley. His brother’s smiles came more easily these days, and there wasn’t a lot of things more precious to Ford than a proof of his twin’s happiness.

“Whatcha gonna do, Grunkle Stan, whatcha gonna do?” Mabel prompted her uncle.

Stan stuck out his tongue, deep in thought. “I think… I’m gonna charm its nonexistent pants off.”

Dipper’s face crumpled, and he said, “Really?!” while his sister pumped her fist in the air, chanting, “Charm the troll, charm the troll!”

Ford groaned. Of course, it was no use telling Stan than his preferred course of action wasn’t even allowed by the rules. His twin always found a loophole, _always_. “Do a persuasion roll,” he said, mouth forcing into a frigid smile.

Stan threw his twenty-sided dice. Everyone waited with bated breath as it made its way across the table. Fidds strummed on his brand-new banjo (a gift from his soon-to-be foster daughter, from what Ford understood) for effect.

“Oh, _snap!_ ” Mabel said at the result. 

Dipper hit his forehead with his palm. Wendy shook her head, smiling, while Soos gasped in amazement.

“Natural twenty,” Stan said, leaning back in his chair in a satisfied way. “I still got it in me, heh.”

He grinned stupidly at Ford. And Ford instantly, _instinctively_ , found himself stupidly grinning back.

Unconditional love won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: It's doooone!! Finally!! How did I do that?? *pterodactyl screech*
> 
> Anyway, a huge, huuuge thanks to everyone who read this, uh, not-so-little story. I don't think I would have managed without you guys, for real. Catch me curling in a ball somewhere and crying happy tears or something.


End file.
